Ambush
by Rachelly
Summary: Dean and Sam run into serious trouble when hunters gang together and make Sam their prey, and Dean, his only hope. Sam angst, Dean angst, hurtSam, hurt Dean.. NOW 1508 reviews! Thanks guys!
1. Ambushed

Author's Note: This takes place immediately after Simon Said, overlapping just a tiny bit, and then develops into its own story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. I just love to play with them!

Ambush

Chapter 1

The Winchester brothers turned to leave. Dean approached the Impala on the driver's side, Sam on the passenger's.

The older brother's cell phone suddenly began to sing. Dean flipped it open and looked off into the distance.

Sam looked back at Andy and offered a smile. He felt sorry for the guy-being alone and all, having just found out he had a brother only to end up killing him. Sam was grateful he had Dean, and he glanced back appreciatively at his older brother as Dean snapped the cell phone lid closed and slid it back into his pocket.

Sam raised his eyebrows as if in a question.

"Ellen. Said she's got something for us," Dean offered.

Sam nodded, opened the car door with his left hand, since his right was barely useful with the cast, and ducked inside. Dean opened his door and slid in behind the wheel. Then he paused.

"What?" Sam asked softly.

"Nothing, probably. S'just Ellen called me _Sam_."

"She's still getting used to us. I'm sure it was nothing."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean answered hesitantly starting up the Impala.

"Think Andy will be alright?" Sam questioned returning his attention back to the dazed mind controller.

Dean glanced back in the rearview mirror. "He'll be fine."

"It's just, he's all alone. You know? His girlfriend is even afraid of him, of his abilities. It's not like he has anyone."

Dean looked over at Sam and smiled. He knew exactly what his younger brother was thinking.

"Sam, I'm not afraid of you, and I never will be. People scare easily. They fear what they don't understand. Who knows, maybe in time, his girlfriend will be okay with him. Either way, you don't need to worry about me or being alone. I'm here and I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Sam smiled and blushed, a bit embarrassed that his older brother had realized his concern.

"…Well, except to Ellen's," Dean added playfully. Then he furrowed his brow. "I still think it's weird she called me _Sam._"

"Wishful thinking, probably," Sam added teasingly.

Dean smiled and nodded his head surprised he'd left the door wide open for his little brother to get the best of him.

ooooOOOooooo

The Winchester brothers pulled up in front of the Roadhouse. The sun had just set across the horizon and the dark evening sky was quickly taking over. The lot was littered with various trucks and it was obvious that a crowd had rolled in.

"That's just great!" Dean groused.

"What?" Sam questioned, surprised by his brother's declaration. He glanced over, analyzing the Impala, thinking that something was wrong with her. _It_…he corrected himself amusingly as he realized even he was beginning to look at the car as if it had a female personality.

"We don't need to be discussing our business with a crowd hanging around," Dean stated gruffly.

Sam knew exactly what Dean meant-a crowd of hunters, supernatural hunters. His older brother feared what the hunting community would do if it discovered his visions, let alone the research they were conducting.

"Dean, don't worry, man. We can talk in the back room. No one will hear anything," Sam offered to calm his older sibling.

Dean nodded and exited the car. He eyed the parking lot suspiciously. For a Tuesday night, it just seemed a bit too busy-more like a weekend crowd.

Sam picked up on Dean's cautiousness. "Could be a good thing. Maybe everyone is celebrating successful hunts," he offered trying to provide a perfectly reasonable explanation for the crowd.

"Maybe," Dean answered still a bit unnerved about Ellen's mistake earlier. He reached back inside for his .45 in the glove compartment and checked that it was loaded and ready, then shut the door. "Let's take a look around back" he commented.

Sam, trusting Dean's instincts, agreed, and they headed off.

oooOOOooo

Dean stopped abruptly next to the back window and tugged Sam closer by his sleeve. Peering in through the window, he could barely see into the bar room through the backroom doorway. But everything looked normal. Guys were sitting around drinking, smoking, and playing pool. Ellen was nowhere in sight, but that wasn't unusual. The bar was around the corner from Dean's position. Jo was also nowhere in sight.

"Anything?" Sam asked quietly from his sidelined position. He was a bit surprised by Dean's protective gesture, but complied none the less.

"Nothing," Dean complained. His tone indicated that he still wasn't convinced. He would rather see what he was dealing with than deal with surprises, and his gut was telling him something was amiss.

"Man, I get that you're worried about me being a supernatural _freak_ and the roadhouse being a haven for hunters, but only Ellen and Jo know. Ash might be suspicious, but I doubt he's put any of it together. Based on Ellen's reaction to the news of Dad's death, I don't think she or Jo would do anything to harm us."

Dean glanced back at Sam. His little brother was way too trusting, but he did have a point. He tucked his gun into his waistband and headed toward the front with Sam in tow.

Sam crossed in front of Dean and turned to face him.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to take that thing into a bar full of drunken hunters?" he questioned with his eyebrows raised nodding toward Dean's hidden weapon. He was amused that his brother was so cautious in some ways and not in others.

"Yes," Dean stated flatly. He didn't want to take a chance at being unarmed should anyone try anything to get to Sam.

Sam sighed exasperatingly, turned and headed toward the door. He knew Dean was protective, but this was a bit over the top even for him.

Upon arrival, he felt a quick pull back on his jacket as his brother moved out in front of him. Sam shook his head. _Once a big overprotective brother, always a big overprotective brother._

The elder Winchester grabbed the long metal handle and yanked the large wooden door open. A world of music, noise, and smoke assaulted them immediately. Dean glanced quickly around the room and back at Sam.

His brother nodded and they entered.

oooOOOooo

Instantly Dean sensed it, a tension so thick the cloud of smoke that permeated the room seemed more like a breeze of fresh air in comparison. Ellen was in plain sight behind the bar looking frantically at Dean. A scruffy man stood directly beside her. His body language was threatening.

Dean reached for his piece and stepped back, abruptly shoving Sam out the door with his body.

As he raised his arm to take aim, the door was suddenly slammed toward him crashing into his shoulder and knocking his weapon from his hand.

He stumbled backwards practically falling on his younger sibling, who was also attempting to get his footing after his brother's abrupt shove.

Sam grabbed the door frame and pulled himself up and righted his older brother with the front of his body as well.

Frantic that his piece would be recovered and used against them, Dean kicked the door back slamming the hidden attacker on the other side in the face and away from the fallen weapon. As Dean attempted to reach for his gun, the wounded and enraged man emerged from his position forcefully shoving the door closed hoping to once again bombard the elder Winchester.

But Dean had already cleared the door as he reached for his piece. Sam, however, was not as fortunate. He had just begun to reenter the bar when the door was kicked back. The solid block of wood rammed mercilessly into him, and he was thrown outside by its impact.

"Sam, get the hell out of..."

_ Slam_

"...here!" Dean commanded from the other side of the suddenly closed door as he threw a forceful punch into the face of his attacker.

The large man was thrown backwards. His head struck the wall with a painful crack, and he began sliding down to the floor.

Dean fisted the man's jacket and dragged him back up to his feet preparing to finish him off.

The youngest Winchester, not about to leave his brother trapped in the road house by himself engaged in a fight, reopened the large wooden door just in time to see another man making his move toward Dean from the opposite side of the doorway.

"Dean! Look out!" Sam yelled out desperately as he reentered the road house.

Dean turned in response to his brother's warning.

Sam blocked the second attacker's advance by placing his body protectively in front of his older brother, directly in the aggressive man's path. He jabbed his left fist into the man's face and followed with a right cross catching the man full on with his cast. The man stumbled back raising his arms defensively over his face. Sam took full advantage of the situation and drew his leg up and kicked the man in the stomach throwing him forcefully against a round wooden table that crumbled into a pile of sticks under his weight.

The man attempted to rise, but fell back as he succumbed to his injuries.

Now confident that Sam had successfully dealt with his attacker, Dean turned back to the man staggering behind the door trying to get his bearings. Dean grabbed his shirt, raised him to his feet, and punched him into oblivion. His body fell bonelessly to the floor.

Dean attempted to recover his weapon that lay a few feet from him on the wooden floor.

"Behind you! Behind you!" Sam's voice hollered out suddenly.

Dean stood up quickly, swearing as he saw his opportunity to recover his weapon vanish. The look on his brother's face told him what he needed to know, and he began turning to face his assailant. Before he could reposition himself, he felt strong arms embrace him from behind in a vice grip that literally removed the use of his arms for his defense and forced the air out of his lungs.

Still facing Sam, he bent over toward the floor exposing the man's face to his little brother who then placed a forceful punch to the attacker's nose snapping it like a twig.

The man released his grip on Dean and grabbed his bloodied face. Dean stood up, shoved his elbow forcefully into the disabled man's ribs, turned and put a well placed blow to the back of his head.

The unsuspecting man, whose broken nose was bleeding profusely, doubled up and collapsed to the floor.

Before the body stilled, another man swiftly moved in to disable Dean. But Sam was much too quick. He shoved Dean out of the way and threw a left into the oversized man who barely paused before grabbing Sam by the shirt. Sam twisted and turned so that the man's back was toward the open door, and he kneed him in his groin. His body took the full impact since the door offered no give, and the man groaned painfully and dropped to the floor paralyzed by his pain.

Dean cursed as he watched his weapon disappear under the newly fallen man's hulk-like frame. He dove for the floor and attempted to move the bulk of a man up enough to grasp the weapon.

Sam moved over toward his brother to watch his back. But before he could get his bearings, he heard a loud shriek.

"Sam! Look out!" Ellen's voice barked from across the room just as another large man sidelined the youngest Winchester, slamming him into the open wooden door that was unforgiving due to the collapsed body that was unconscious behind it and the one that lay in front of it under Sam's feet.

The man standing beside Ellen turned abruptly and elbowed her in the face.

As she moved to take him, she heard Jo's piercing scream bellow out as he fisted his hand in her hair, lifted her up from behind the bar where she was being held, and put a knife to her exposed throat. Ellen stiffened and froze.

Sam's body hit hard, his head even harder. He was dazed for a moment. He felt a strong punch to his stomach and muscular hands grasp his already aching head.

"Sam!" Dean hollered as he leaned back and raised his right leg. Mustering up all the power he was capable of delivering through the limb, he kicked the man full force, his boot making contact with the attacking man's side. The brute's chest snapped, and he released his grip on Sam and clutched his now damaged side.

Dean, furious that the bastard had threatened his brother, followed mercilessly with a right cross to his face. He felt the bones give under his impact and watched as the man dropped to the floor with a thud.

Sam stumbled a bit while trying to recover from the blow his head had just received. His vision was swirling and his legs felt disconnected from his body. They seemed to be unable to respond to his commands. A trickle of blood cascaded down his face from a deep cut just above his temple.

Dean grabbed his gun off the floor and spun around placing himself protectively between his brother, who was just inside the door, and the bar. Sam grabbed hold of Dean's shoulder to steady himself. His vision was blurry at best and his balance was still clearly off. Dean held out his weapon and swung it in all directions threateningly and began to slowly back himself and Sam up-toward the door.

Before him stood three scruffy, sturdy built men who had risen to their feet once the commotion had broken out, seemingly impartial to the events unfolding around them. Behind the bar stood a man holding Ellen at bay with his grasp on Jo. Her eyes radiated pure fear. There were three unconscious men on the floor, two fallen men that were beginning to stir, and two more men approaching from the right in a menacing way.

Dean swung his piece in their direction.

"Back off!" Dean warned, his words laced with venom as he cautiously backed Sam out through the doorway. He had no idea if any of the men were armed and he couldn't move too quickly for fear he might miss the drawing of a weapon or cause his injured brother to stumble behind him. He was well aware of Sam's shaky grip on his shoulder, and he prayed his brother wasn't about to fall over. Timing was everything and Dean knew it.

The advancing men slowed and glanced back at the three supposedly impartial men, as if looking for directions.

One of the three turned toward the bar and nodded.

It was then that Ellen screamed.

Dean froze. To his horror, the man, standing behind the bar with a wad of Jo's hair tightly grasped in his calloused hand, prepared to draw the blade across her throat.

"No! Jake! Please! Don't do it!" Ellen begged.

Ellen looked pleadingly at Dean. If he didn't surrender, Jo would be dead within seconds.

Dean looked at Jo and then directly at Ellen and tightened his lips. He glanced over at the man who had been clearly identified as Jake. Dean felt the tightening grasp of his brother's hand on his shoulder. While he knew that Sam's balance was precarious, the grip communicated fear: fear for Jo and Ellen, fear for Dean. He reached his left hand behind him to attempt to steady his little brother and reassure him.

For a brief moment, everything stood still.

"It doesn't have to go this way, Dean," the arrogant man, who seemed in charge, smoothly cautioned, his voice cutting through the silent tension that was smothering all who were present.

Upon hearing his brother's name spoken, Sam's fears were confirmed. They hadn't walked into the middle of anything by accident. These men not only knew who they were, but they had been waiting there specifically for them.

Sam attempted to move through the doorway to take a stand with his brother. Dean protectively blocked his advance.

"Step inside, you and your brother, and close the door. We'll have ourselves…," his eyes darted over Dean's shoulder and fixed on Sam, "….a little chat. Calm like," Jake added, returning his gaze back to Dean as the corners of his mouth curled evilly upward. "Nobody has to get hurt here."

"I don't think so," Dean responded eyeing the situation and playing out his options in his head. His first priority was Sam. There was no way in hell Jake had plans to _chat_ with his little brother. That much was obvious.

The man behind the bar pulled Jo's head back, further exposing her neck, and began to press the blade in, forcing a show of blood.

"No!" Ellen screamed again.

Dean bit his lip. There was no way in hell he would let these bastards hurt Jo or Ellen. However, giving up Sam was totally out of the question.

He wished Sam were armed and cursed himself for not having followed his gut and better prepared his little brother for this situation. If he and his brother remained to fight, Sam, without a weapon, would be forced into a physical confrontation. And, he was pretty sure Sam was no longer capable of defending himself. His younger brother's tightening grip on his shoulder and swaying tugs were a clear indication of that. The best he could do was to give Jo and Ellen a fighting chance while he got Sam safely out the door. Once his little brother was safely outside, he determined he would come back in and finish it.

Before the drop of blood that glistened on Jo's neck could fall, Dean fired his weapon, and the man holding Jo jerked and fell instantly to the floor behind the bar with a loud thud.

Jo gasped as her mother grabbed hold of her and shoved her down behind the wooden counter. The two began to make their way along the bar to where Ellen had weapons stashed in case of an emergency. She grabbed the two weapons and passed one to her daughter.

"What the h…?" Ellen whispered as she checked her weapon over.

Jo looked up at her mother. "Mine too," she whispered acknowledging the fact that hers had also been unloaded.

"Damn it!" Ellen spat. She gestured toward the end of the bar with her head, and they began to make their way in that direction.

oooOOOooo

The instant the shot was fired, Sam felt himself being shoved forcefully through the doorway toward the parking lot by his older brother. The sudden movement was disorienting to the already unsteady man, and he struggled to regain his balance as he anticipated more gunshots would follow, and he feared for his brother's safety.

Jake nodded, and one of the men standing next to him drew his weapon.

Dean detected the movement and fired again, dropping the aiming man where he stood. Then he immediately swung his weapon to confront the two men advancing on his right.

The first guy made contact attempting to seize Dean's weapon just as the young hunter fired. The horrified man's body jerked and dropped to the floor.

Before Dean could reposition his weapon for the second, the advancing man grabbed his arm and forced it upward toward the ceiling rendering his weapon useless. He kneed Dean brutally in the stomach, and disarmed him.

The force of the impact caused Dean to double over and drop to the floor. He gasped and coughed trying to regain the breath that had been viciously forced from his lungs.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he reentered the roadhouse and tried to assist his brother. He drew back his fist and attempted to make contact with his brother's assailant. But his motor coordination was slowed by his head injury, and before he could react, he took a second blow to his temple and dropped unconsciously to the floor next to his brother.

The man, pleased with his victory, drew back his leg and kicked Sam hard in the chest and then aimed his foot at the youngest hunter's head.

"Sam!" Dean coughed out as he rose to protect his fallen brother.

He rammed his fist, knuckles forward, into the attacker's head causing the surprised man, whose focus had lingered a second too long on the younger Winchester, to stumble backward slightly.

But he quickly recovered and readied to go after Sam again. The mere size of the man would make him difficult to take down and without his weapon, Dean had no other choice. He launched himself at the threatening man using the full force of his body to take him to the floor. The man lay crumpled beneath him unmoving.

_Click_

Dean froze, holding his breath. He felt like a steel blade had just cut right through him. The sound of a cocked gun threatened from behind him where he knew Sam had fallen.

He lifted himself up and slowly turned around, fearful of what he might find.

To his horror, Jake was standing over Sam and had the panicked Winchester's weapon aimed at the base of his little brother's skull.


	2. Lines Are Drawn

Disclaimer: There were no Winchesters harmed in the making of this chapter….NOT!

Warning: language and violence (It's a rough bunch, what can I say)

Previously On Supernatural Ambush:

"Click"

Dean froze holding his breath. He felt like a steel blade had just cut right through him. The sound of the cocked gun threatened from behind him, where he knew Sam had fallen. He lifted himself up and slowly turned around fearful of what he might find.

To his horror, Jake was standing over Sam and had the panicked Winchester's weapon aimed at the base of his little brother's skull.

Chapter 2: Lines Are Drawn

Dean's heart skipped a beat before slamming against the wall of his chest when he saw his little brother laid out like an animal after it had been taken down by a triumphant hunter.

Sammy's unconscious body lay sprawled across the hardwood floor. His head was angled awkwardly toward him, and his casted arm extended straight out as if reaching instinctively for his big brother's help. His eyes were closed as if in sleep; not the kind of restless sleep that was typical for his little brother where his face usually expressed pain, fear, and worry, but an erroneously serene sleep indicative of the vacancy of awareness. His swollen lip and bloodied nose oddly matched his damaged forehead, a wash of purple and red blending together and increasing in size. The barrel of his own gun was aimed directly at his little brother's skull while Jake's oversized boot, viciously pressed against Sam's back, restricted his breathing.

His little brother's mouth dropped unknowingly open to compensate. His cataleptic body struggled to supply him with air, his chest to rise just a bit to squeeze in just enough to remove the asphyxiating pain that it was enduring. But there was little room for his compressed ribs to expand beneath the determined hunter's crushing weight.

Dean bit his lip and stiffened as Jake rammed the weapon cruelly up against the base of Sam's skull forcing his helpless brother's head downward closing his open mouth. What little air that remained in his fallen sibling's suffocating lungs began to bubble out through his bloodied nose.

A cool, calloused sneer spread across Jake's sarcastic face as he looked directly at Dean.

Dean held up his hand pleadingly in the stop position. His eyes were dark with anger, his heart terrified.

"Whoa..whoa …whoa. Let's think about this! Huh? Jake is it?" he questioned fearfully as he slowly removed himself from the collapsed man beneath him and stood with his hands out, palms up, in a non threatening way.

The arrogant man, equal to Dean in height but lighter in weight, paused.

"Now what's there to think about? Seems to me, you chose this," he mocked pressing harder on Sam's back. "Alls _I _wanted to do was talk."

Dean watched in horror as his brother lay helplessly pinned beneath the commanding man's boot while the bloody bubbles that had been escaping his damaged nose ceased- indicating there was no air left in his sibling's lungs to exhale.

"Stop, damn it! You're suffocating him!" Dean shouted out in terror as he began moving forward to take Jake.

Instantly, Jake removed his foot and dropped into a kneeling position, his knee slamming ruthlessly into Sam's back. It was a hunter's move used to incapacitate its prey before taking its life.

Sam's body jerked from the abrupt impact, and any residual air that had been lingering in the tiny nooks and crannies of his lungs was instantly expelled.

Jake clamped his free hand firmly down on Sam's head while grabbing a fistful of his hair and held him hard to the floor. It was an unnecessary gesture since Sam was clearly unconscious, just a show of power and dominance... and Jake reveled in it. He quickly slid the gun from the base of Sam's skull to his temple and tensed his wrist.

Dean instantly stopped his advance.

"Don't do this!" Dean warned, shaking his head and pleading at the same time. He tried to steady his voice but his emotions were clearly evident. He fisted his hands to keep them from trembling at his side.

"Get back," Jake warned, pulsing his finger on the trigger.

Dean quickly inched backwards, non-threateningly, as his heart continued to race forward, pummeling his chest from the inside. Everything inside of him willed Jake's finger to stop, his hand to relax, the gun to be removed from Sam's head. He could barely think as his anxiety reached a level he had never known before. His eyes darted from Sam to Jake and back to Sam, whose now suffocating body began to blue.

He bit his lip trying desperately to figure a way to calm himself, to think, to save his helpless little brother.

"What do you want, Jake?" the eldest Winchester pleaded willing to cooperate, to do anything to get Jake off of Sam. His eyes stung, threatening to tear.

Jake didn't respond. In fact, he appeared stoic as if unaware of the harm he was inflicting.

"Jake, please," Dean begged with tears glistening in his eyes.

Jake smiled delighting in Dean's brokenness.

oooOOOooo

Ellen and Jo had begun making their way toward the back door from behind the counter. They crawled over the unconscious hunter Dean had dropped with his shot and paused when they heard Dean's plea. Everything inside of Ellen wanted to look over the top of the bar, fearful for what was taking place for the Winchester boys on the other side. But she knew she needed to get Jo safe, out the back door before she could return to offer them any assistance.

oooOOOooo

Confident that Dean's distance made him incapable of doing anything to interfere with his plans, Jake released his knee from Sam's back. It wasn't an act of kindness, or a willingness to work with Dean. No, it was an indication that he had other plans for Sam and needed him alive for the moment. The weapon, however, remain trained and in place.

Dean held his breath as he waited for his little brother's ribs to expand indicating that he was still alive and capable of breathing. He shifted fearfully and rubbed his hand through his hair as the seconds passed and nothing happened. _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, Sammy, breathe_ his mind urged over and over, begging his younger sibling to take a breath, to live.

Relief washed over him when he finally heard a gasp and saw Sam's chest rise. A round of coughs followed. Dean began breathing deliberately, slowly in and out, as if willing his brother to do the same.

Sam's coughing eventually slowed and assumed the smooth rhythmic breathing of his older brother's. Through it all, Sam's eyes remained closed, his body unconscious.

Dean looked over at Jake with hatred in his eyes.

oooOOOooo

Confident he had made his point, Jake began to take in the room around him and the various unconscious men littering the floor. Three hunters had been shot, two more appeared to be unconscious, and three were beginning to stir. Only Jed and Daniel were functioning.

Jake turned and glared at Dean with icicles hanging from his eyes. "Winchester, you son of a bitch! Damn it! How the hell did you know?"

Dean stood unresponsive, completely focused on Sam, eyeing the deep intakes of breath his little brother was managing, fearful that his brother might stop if he were to look away. Dean took each and every breath along with him as if his breathing was somehow connected to his little brother's.

Once convinced that his brother's breathing was not reliant on his own, he exhaled and quickly eyed the next immediate threat- the gun that hovered menacingly over his unconscious sibling's temple.

He turned and looked ominously at Jake.

"So help me god, if you…"

"If I what?" Jake interrupted. "You're in no position to threaten me," Jake replied arrogantly massaging Sam's temple with the barrel of the gun.

Dean bristled, then backed off, not wanting to provoke the already angered man.

oooOOOooo

Jake continued to glare at Dean as he began to utter directions. His hand never moved from its position at Sam's head.

"Jed, go check on Tom, Dan , and Bo," he ordered angrily, aware that the shot men hadn't moved. He glanced over at two more of the hunters who appeared unconscious on the floor. "Daniel, check on James and Derek and get Kyle to help his brother and Mike up. Where the hell are the girls? Somebody find out where the girls got to!" he barked holding his weapon steady on Sam knowing it was the only thing that guaranteed Dean and the girls would cooperate.

Ellen stiffened with Jake's command knowing that the ball had fallen completely in his court and that she and Jo would soon be discovered.

Daniel, having been the one who was flattened to the floor when Dean flew at him, shoved Dean with his shoulder as he walked past to check on the others as instructed, then turned in an aggressive manner and punched him.

The elder Winchester would have moved to respond, but feared for Sam's life if he were to begin the fight again. He took the full force of the angered man in the stomach and doubled over before dropping to his knees.

"Not now, Daniel" Jake corrected above Dean's coughs. He had Dean where he wanted him and didn't want to risk the advantage they had over a personal grudge. "You'll get your chance," he promised the vengeful man.

Jed, the dark haired man who had been sitting with Jake earlier, seemingly uninvolved, moved over to check the fallen men one by one. He pocketed Dan's weapon in his waistband.

Shaking his head he declared, "They're dead, damn it! The bastard killed Tom and Dan! Son of a bitch," he hissed looking over at Dean with anger and disgust.

He returned his eyes to Jake. "The shots were dead center; they bled out."

"Damn it, Jake! You said these boys were amateurs!" Daniel growled accusingly as he checked on the other two men laid out on the floor.

"I _said _they were John's boys!" Jake clarified correctively. "_You_ shouldn't have underestimated them. **None of you** should have underestimated them!" he countered accusingly.

Daniel shook his head not liking the way things were playing out.

Jake detected his discontentment.

"Daniel!" Jake called out demanding he keep on track and report his findings.

"Derek is unconscious, probably concussed. Looks like his nose is broken too. He won't be waking up any time soon," the oversized man groused.

"And James?" Jake questioned already anticipating the answer.

Daniel moved over to James and checked him out.

"James is dead. Looks like his face was shattered and punched through his brain. This is so freakin messed up!" Daniel spat back at Jake.

Jake stared him down and motioned for Daniel to help the others get on their feet and back in the game.

Daniel hesitated and then moved on to check on Kyle, Kyle's brother Joseph, and Mike.

oooOOOooo

The hunter in Dean took full advantage of the moment and began assessing his and his brother's prey.

Dean watched as Daniel backed down once again. He was clearly a force to be reckoned with, but not quite as ruthless as Jake. The eldest Winchester couldn't help but wonder how long the hunter would allow Jake to be in charge. Hunters were not known for working together. In fact, they rarely did much of anything together, except drink and gloat over their skills and hunts. Dean reasoned he might be able to force a coup. Seemed Daniel and Jake were the strongest of the bunch, and if he could get one to take out the other, it might tip things in his and Sammy's favor.

Jed, on the other hand, seemed more like a follower; definitely independent enough to challenge, but willing to do whatever he was told. Based on his demeanor and lanky frame, Dean concluded that, given the right opportunity, Jed wasn't much of a threat and could be easily taken.

Jake was another issue altogether. Tall, well built, lean yet muscular, obviously most respected by the others, he clearly demonstrated he had a killer's heart, not that he had a heart to begin with. Dean knew he would be the hardest to take down. The eldest Winchester reasoned he'd need to be the first. Not just because of what he had done to Sam, though that was a big part of it, but because every hunter knows that if you take off the head of an animal, the body drops uncoordinatedly to the ground. To undo this mob, Jake had to be taken out.

The jury was still out on the others. All three were stirring and appeared pissed as hell.

Mike couldn't stand up yet as the pain of being kneed continued to incapacitate him. _Way to go, Sammy_ Dean cheered in his mind. Dean considered Mike another easy target having been kneed himself a few times before. The guy wouldn't be standing straight for days.

Kyle was staggering and holding his head, appearing to have one hell of a headache from the door episode. The older sibling was furious his little brother, Joseph, had suffered injuries, having been knocked unconscious by Sam and thrown onto the table. He glared daggers at Dean as he struggled to help his brother up off the floor. Dean knew the bond brothers can have. He would do anything for Sam and kill anyone who hurt him. He surmised Kyle to be like himself as he watched him tend after his brother. If he wanted to take Joseph, he'd have to get Kyle first.

Dean continued observing and calculating during the brief pause Jake seemed to be offering as he regrouped the hunters for whatever was next. He looked nervously back at Sam, concerned that his little brother was still not stirring. It would take the two of them to get out of this, and Dean worried for Sam and whether the kid would even be able to assist.

oooOOOooo

Jed, having reported the deaths of Dan and Tom, now rounded the bar to check on Bo, whose clothing was soaked in blood. He grinned eerily at the two crouching ladies.

"Bo's losing a lot of blood …..and… it looks like we've got two rats back here," Jed commented slyly.

Dean shifted nervously, fearing what Jake might order for the girls.

"Bring _them_ here and patch him up," Jake barked.

Ellen placed Jo behind her and began backing up toward the back door. Jed moved to block their way and nudged them forward toward Jake with his weapon at their backs.

Ellen placed both hands on Jo and held her protectively beside her as they approached. Jed moved over to help Bo.

"Ellen, Ellen, Ellen," Jake chided coldly while still keeping the gun at Sam's head. "You _warned_ them, didn't you? I don't know how, but you did. And now, look at this _mess _you created." Jake's words sarcastically dripped from his sinister lips. "I thought you were on _our _side. Such a shame. Your husband would be _so disappointed_ if he could see you now, siding with the very thing he hunted."

Ellen bit her lower lip; her eyes were as sharp as daggers. "This isn't my mess, Jake. It's yours, and if you were half the man my husband was, you'd know you're on the wrong side of this one."

"So you think we should let these boys go, huh? After what their daddy did to your poor husband? After what you know about _this_ one?" he said nodding at Sam while his piece circled against the back of his head, moving his long brown hair out of the way to snuggle it closer.

Dean cringed as the almost caressing movement sickened him.

"What's it gonna be, Ellen? Either you're with us or against us," Jake demanded drawing a clear line and making her choose which side she'd stand on.

Ellen glanced around the room. "Daniel? Is this what you had in mind?" she asked directly, nodding in Sam's direction and then gesturing at Jo. She returned her gaze to him. Daniel glanced away.

"Kyle? Joseph?" she asked looking questioningly at the two brothers. Both men turned and looked back at Jake. "Jed?"

None of the hunters responded.

"This isn't hunting evil…this **_is_ **evil!" she hissed.

Dean looked over at Ellen, and their eyes met. She was an amazing woman with great courage, and Dean couldn't help but admire her. Ellen paused and looked back.

"Go to hell, Jake!" Ellen boldly stated and spit in his direction. "I'd rather be dead on the right side than living on the wrong."

"Bitch," Jake spat back. He nodded to Jed who then forced the women to take a seat at a table over by the arcade machine.

Ellen placed herself between Jed and Jo and directed her daughter gently with her arms to sit in the chair farthest from Jed.

"Bo?" Jake questioned Jed once the girls were settled and under control.

"It's bad. He needs a hospital not bar room triage," Jed commented disgustedly.

"It's the best we can do for now without bringing down the law on us," Jake commented. "Keep an eye on him."

Dean wasn't surprised by the older hunter's willingness to sacrifice the injured man. He'd clearly demonstrated he cared little for the lives of the men that stood around him. And, if he cared so little for their lives, Dean figured his brother's and his meant nothing at all except maybe a trophy the calloused hunter could hang on his wall and gloat over. He had to do something and soon, before it was too late.

oooOOOooo

The three other hunters who had suffered Sam and Dean's attacks and been initially incapacitated were finally to their feet and approaching, though Mike continued to remain hunched over and barely able to walk.

Dean looked over to Sam, now stirring on the floor. Jake had the .45 tight to the base of his skull.

Jake reached over to grab Sam with his free hand.

Dean glared angrily at the hunter and spoke with venom in his voice. "Don't touch him," he hissed, "Don't you lay a freakin hand on him."

Jake ignored Dean's warning. "Daniel, put this asshole in a chair and secure him. Mike, go help him," Jake added knowing Mike was barely able to stand, let alone be much help. But did carry a knife capable of making bindings out of Daniel's rope. "And make sure you check him for weapons before you do."

"Kyle, you and your brother are with me... and Sam."

Dean flinched at the sound of his brother's name being spoken by Jake. He didn't want Kyle and Joseph anywhere near Sam. He feared the reason why Jake had called them to his side. Dean looked at Daniel and back at Jake, and his eyes went dark. If he allowed Daniel to tie him down, he would have little chance to stop whatever was about to happen. If he didn't cooperate, Sam would probably suffer the consequences or worse, be killed.

Jake could tell that Dean was thinking out his options and didn't want to give the Winchester the opportunity to come up with anything.

"Now!" Jake spit out, grabbing Sam by the hair and wrenching his head back as he repositioned the gun to his temple once again.

Dean slowly backed up toward the chair as Daniel moved in with a rope to secure him. Mike held a knife up to slice the rope into tie-able pieces.

Dean eyed the jagged knife, the two hunters, then Jake and the gun, trying desperately to figure out his next move. Jake wanted Sam for something, and Dean was pretty sure he wouldn't kill Sam until he got it -based on the fact that he released his knee from Sam's back earlier to keep him alive. Knowing this, a move on Dean's part would only be dangerous for himself, not for Sam.

Dean watched as Mike sliced through the rope making a second piece. Mike continued to remain partially hunched over and clearly in pain from his earlier injury. The eldest Winchester knew this was the only chance he was gonna get to make a move before he was helplessly tied down to a chair and unable to help his brother.

Before Daniel and Mike could realize what was happening, as if in one fluid motion, Dean spun his body, threw a back kick at Daniel making full contact with his chest and forcing the oversized man sprawling backwards, hit Mike directly in the face while grabbing the falling blade from his hand as he attempted to protect himself, drew the weapon across the unsuspecting hunter's throat, and launched himself at Jake.

Everything happened so fast. Daniel slammed onto the floor and smacked his head against the leg of a table. Mike crumpled down as blood sprayed out from his now partially severed head. And Dean felt the blade he was holding penetrate Jake's body as the man hollered out in pain. The two fell to the floor with the impact of Dean's body and Jake's weapon flew from his hand. Dean struggled to rise and desperately reached for the weapon as it lay a few feet in front of him. He knew he had mere seconds before Kyle, Joseph, and a recovered Daniel would be all over him.

Jed, seeing the attack unfold before him, quickly aimed his weapon in Dean's direction, but was unable to take a shot as Dean's body disappeared along with Jake's below a group of tables. Ellen moved to take advantage of Jed's distractedness. But before she could be successful, he retrained his gun back on Jo. The aggressive mother settled instantly.

Dean's hand wrapped around his gun, enjoying the comfortable feel of the worn handle matching his own hand, and turned around to take the kill shot.

He froze in place when he saw Jake's bloody knife at Sam's jugular and Kyle blocking his shot to stop him. There was no way to take Jake out without hitting his little brother in the process.

It seemed as if everything stopped.

Dean could easily take out Daniel with a bullet, but not in time to stop Jake from slicing through Sam's neck, and, judging by Jake's trembling hand, he no longer cared whether he got anything out of Sam. The knife wound had tipped him over into wanting to kill his brother just for spite.

Joseph stood frozen, fearing for his big brother's life. Kyle, not liking the position he was in, standing before the armed Winchester, began to shift nervously and move backwards.

"Hold your ground, Kyle." Jake ordered. "He's not foolish enough to shoot, not with his brother like this," he threatened.

Dean couldn't see the hunter, but his heavy breathing and trembling hand indicated he had been hurt. He only hoped it was bad enough to cause the man to bleed out.

Kyle held his ground, his oversized body stood like a wall between Dean and Jake.

"Get the gun from him, Joseph!" Jake ordered frustratingly as the still frozen brother just stood there having no hunter instincts of his own. The knife Jake was pressing into Sam's skin now began to draw blood.

Dean cursed and relinquished his piece.

Kyle grabbed the gun and handed it off to Jake, then moved in to pelt Dean for scaring the shit out of him. Joseph bent down to check Jake. Daniel began stirring on the floor as his temporary loss of consciousness faded.

Sam remained unconscious having no idea his big brother had offered up his own life in a desperate attempt to save him.

"Get off me!" Jake hissed as he shook Joseph from himself. "Just tie him up!" he ordered the other hunters as he slumped down onto the floor next to Sam and massaged the bleeding wound on his chest.

He set the knife down and replaced it with Dean's gun.

Daniel walked up to Dean, who was now secured by Kyle and Joseph, and took a fisted shot at him. Kyle kneed him in the stomach and nodded to his brother, who punched Dean in the face. Daniel pounded in a few more, refusing to be satisfied until Dean collapsed gasping to the floor.

"Damn it! I said tie him up, not beat him up!" Jake ordered, his voice shaking slightly from pain.

Jake couldn't really blame them. Everything inside of him wanted to take the gun he was holding up to Sam's head and put it to Dean's and pull the trigger. Watch the annoying hunter's life disappear in a spattering of blood.

Gordon had warned Jake that Dean was a killer, had a killer's instincts, but he didn't realize the man was clearly out of control when it came to his brother.

Still, he couldn't kill Dean, not yet anyway. He needed him; he needed both brothers. If pressed hard enough, one would talk to save the other, and Jake planned to use their bond to his full advantage to get the information he came for. Then the lives of these two could be forfeited.

"Don't beat him up?" Daniel questioned incredulously. "He killed Mike! Damn near sliced his head off, for god sake, Jake!" Daniel disputed, infuriated that the older hunter had demanded that they stop. "He dies! Now!"

Dean's head and body ached as he watched through a haze of confusion to see Kyle and Joseph agree. Jake was losing control of the hunters. Dean hadn't exactly taken the head off the beast he had been hunting, but he had seriously injured it. The animal's body was showing signs of collapse already and a coup seemed evident. Unfortunately, this was not exactly the way Dean had hoped the collapse would go down, with his life being the trigger.

"NO!" Jake chastised. "I said, 'Tie. Him. Up!'"

The arguing hunters' eyes met, each holding his ground. Daniel was challenging, Jake unyielding. Kyle and Joseph watched and waited. Dean anticipated.

"NOW!" Jake finally commanded.

Daniel bristled. He was not one to take orders and he was sick of the trouble Dean had been causing. If he were in control, the eldest Winchester would be dead already. But he was not ready to take on Jake. Even wounded, the hunter was dangerous if you were on the wrong side of him, and the two did share a common goal, after all. It was why they were there in the first place.

Jake, recognizing he needed to walk carefully with Daniel so as not to lose the hunter, softened his voice. "We agreed, I'd handle things, remember? We need him alive if this one doesn't cooperate," he added gesturing to Sam. "There's something much bigger going on out there than you or me or even Mike for that matter, and it's our responsibility to figure out what it is and how to stop it. S'why we're here."

Dean listened as Jake went on, trying to put the pieces together. _Something bigger going on? Responsibility to stop it?_ The words swirled around in Dean's mind as he tried desperately to make sense of the world around him and what he was hearing without succumbing to the veil of unconsciousness that was trying to cover him.

Daniel begrudgingly obliged, and he and Kyle pulled Dean up off the floor and threw him into a nearby chair, practically tipping it over.

Dean shook his head trying to clear his vision as he felt a warm liquid trickle down his forehead and join with the liquid from his nose, which was already cascading down onto his lips. He spit the bloody fluid at Daniel, who was tying his hands to the rungs of the chair, and smiled annoyingly at the hunter, sneering at him for being reigned in like a dog on a leash by Jake.

Then he turned his eyes on Jake to assess his injuries.

The gruff hunter was clearly hampered, but obviously used to injuries as he continued on as if nothing had happened. Judging from the amount of blood and the fact that the man had removed the blade himself, a big mistake since often more damage occurs in the removal of a knife than in its initial penetration, Dean was pretty sure Jake was screwed. He only hoped the guy bought it before he could get his hands further on Sam.

ooOOoo

Daniel secured the final knots on Dean's legs as Jake began bellowing out orders.

"Kyle, you and Joseph take the bodies out back for now. We'll clean things up later. Then go check on Bo and patch him up."

The hunters paused, uncomfortable with Jake's calloused reference to their peers as bodies. They exchanged glances of discontentment which Dean was quick to pick up, as was Jake.

Walking the thin line of controlling without seeming to, Jake attempted to pacify the hesitant hunters. "We'll bury our boys proper when this is all over," he nodded reassuringly as he wiped sweat from his brow.

Kyle seemed appeased and of course Joseph along with him, and the two began dragging the four bodies out into the back room leaving dark bloody smears across the hardwood floor.

Dean, whose mind was no longer as fuzzy, was amazed at Jake's ability to manipulate the hunters and grew concerned that the coup he was anticipating might not be forthcoming.

Still, Jake's wound was clearly affecting him as he often poked and prodded at it, and the hope of collapse was still in play.

oooOOOooo

Kyle and his brother returned and then went to check on the man who was wounded badly behind the bar. Kyle paused, then reached out to check the downed man's neck.

"Bo's dead," Kyle called out leaning over the recently shot hunter.

"Son of a bitch," Daniel cursed and launched a punch once again at Dean, whose face was already a bloody mess of bruises, cuts, a bloodied nose, and split lips.

Dean shook his head to clear the swirling vision he was having once again. As long as their attentions were on him and not Sam, Dean didn't care.

"Not now!" Jake ordered. "I said you'll get your chance."

Jake leaned over and grasped Sam by his jacket and hair and pulled Sam's limp body upwards. His semi-unconscious frame swung loosely under the hunter's cruel grasp.

"Leave him alone!" Dean ordered as he attempted to rise to aid his mistreated sibling.

The bindings held him fast to his chair, and he was quickly shoved back down by Daniel.

"What the hell do you want from him!" Dean demanded as if daring the men to come up with an answer that wouldn't cost them their lives when he ended this mess.

While his tone was threatening, his demeanor radiated fear. When it came to Sam, he was an open book. The kid was his life. Always was, always would be. And anything that threatened his little brother scared the shit out of him.

And Jake was counting on that.

Amused by Dean's distress and pissed at how wrong everything had gone so far, Jake roughly dragged Sam's helpless body over to Dean's feet and dropped him on the floor.

The sound of Sam's body falling against the hard wood floor was sickening. The air in his lungs was once again forced out upon impact. Blood began trickling from his nose again.

Jake looked directly at Dean and kicked Sam in the stomach.

"Bastard!" Dean hissed as he lashed out in anger.

Sam gasped and curled in on himself. His eyes opened briefly and, recognizing Dean was near, he reached out his hand toward his brother. His world was a mass of swirling colors with small specks of white light. Pain radiated out from his stomach, head and casted arm. He wanted Dean. He needed Dean to make sense of what was happening, to make the pain go away.

Dean held his breath and struggled to move his chair toward his brother's reaching hand eager to let his brother reach him if it would offer any comfort. His eyes began immediately searching over his brother's body for further signs of damage.

Jake leaned over just as Sam was about to make contact.

"Don't touch him," Dean growled in a low threatening tone as he struggled furiously at his bindings. "Don't you freakin touch him!"

Jake grabbed Sam by the collar and yanked him away before he was able to make contact.

The collar choked the confused hunter and his hands gripped his shirt trying to relieve the pressure. Sam's world was spinning and the motion nauseated him. He gagged.

"What the hell do you want?" Dean demanded again infuriated.

"What do I want? Answers, damn it! And either you or your brother better be willing to give them!"

"You're not looking for answers," Dean growled as he looked around the room at the collection of hunters who were involved in whatever was taking place. They had all banded together. But for what? For Sam?

Dean's stomach turned in knots as he feared the reason why.

Jake threw Sam to the floor again. The youngest Winchester gasped as he was able to take in a fresh breath of air. The oxygen brought increased clarity and his spinning world stilled for a brief moment. His first thought was to check and see if Dean was okay.

Sam was shocked at his brother's appearance and upset that he had been out while his brother had been mercilessly beaten and bound cruelly to a chair. The discoloration of his hands indicated that they were being cut off from a much needed blood supply.

"Dean," Sam called out worriedly as he made eye contact with his older sibling.

He attempted to get up, but Jake shoved him back down and threatened him with his piece. His concussed head did not afford him the motor control to fight back and he sunk to the floor in despair.

The brothers shared a look.

Dean swallowed hard. His eyebrows knitted together and his face became etched in worry and apology. Sam shook his head attempting to reassure his older sibling that there was nothing to apologize for. Dean's searching eyes begged to know if Sam was alright and spoke of fear…fear for Sam. Sam's concern was not for himself. He half smiled trying to assure Dean he was okay, but Dean could tell that Sam was not. His little brother was hurt, scared, and worried- worried about how the two of them would get out of this one alive.

oooOOOooo

Jake's voice pulled their attentions away.

"Daniel, you keep Dean under control," he directed, and he turned to Kyle and his brother and nodded.

Sam shifted nervously, worried about what Daniel might do to Dean. He looked at Jake and then at Dean and watched anxiously as Daniel checked Dean's bindings and moved to stand behind him.

Dean showed no concern about Daniel. His eyes were fixed on Joseph and his brother as they stepped forward toward Sam. The siblings each took one of Sam's arms and raised him to his feet. Kyle mercilessly yanked on Sam's broken arm as he forced him up.

The youngest Winchester winced and gritted his teeth refusing to give the satisfaction of a yelp. He once again sought his brother's face. His eyes lingered on Dean's as if trying to draw strength and courage from his brother.

Dean reflected assurance as best he could, but his heart was screaming out in fear for what was yet to come.

Jake turned Sam's head roughly, ripping the younger Winchester's gaze away from the comfort of his brother's and forced Sam to look at his captor.

Blinking, the younger Winchester tried to stare directly at Jake and show no fear.

Dean shifted nervously. His brother was just a few feet away from him, but he couldn't do a damn thing to help him.

"Don't do this Jake!" Ellen called out pleadingly. "You're wrong about him!"

"Shut the hell up!" Jake shouted back as he nodded to Jed.

Jed slapped her across the face. Ellen did not even seem to be phased by it which angered Jed. He reached to slap her again, but Jake stopped him.

"Later, Jed!"

Then Jake turned his attention back to Sam. He grabbed a handful of Sam's hair and yanked his head forcefully back.

Sam grimaced and stiffened his lips.

Jake got right up in his bruised and bloodied face and began his inquisition.


	3. The Inquisition

Previously on Supernatural Ambush

Dean shifted nervously. His brother was just a few feet away from him, but he couldn't do a damn thing to help him.

"Don't do this Jake!" Ellen called out pleadingly. "You're wrong about him!"

Jake turned his attentions back to Sam. He grabbed a handful of Sam's hair and yanked his head forcefully back. Sam grimaced and stiffened his lips. Jake got right up in Sam's bruised and bloodied face and began his inquisition.

**Chapter 3**

"On your knees," Jake demanded as he stared coldly into Sam's battered face.

Kyle and Joseph forcefully shoved Sam down causing him to drop to his knees against the hard wood floor.

Sam fell forward upon impact and was ruthlessly reigned in by the two brothers that stood guard on either side of him. Jake now towered above him. Sam's position reeked of vulnerability and humiliation, while Jake's, supremacy and dominance and Dean didn't like it one bit.

Jake's fisted knuckles whitened as he reapplied his unyielding grasp on the helpless Winchester's hair. He assumed his brutal backward pull by bracing his left elbow deep into Sam's shoulder while nuzzling the barrel of his gun, grasped by his right hand, up under the soft tissue beneath Sam's overexposed jaw. Sam's chin was forced up and back, beyond reasonable limits, and the frightened young man fought to catch his breath and keep his balance as the two hunters held him fast.

Dean, bloodied and bound to the bar room chair, watched helplessly as Jake's gun pressed deeply into his little brother's jaw interrupting the rivers of blood flowing from his nose and mouth. The disturbing cut just above Sam's temple was still leaking blood, continuing to forge new paths down his battered face and showing no signs of clotting. Sam was struggling to breath and swallow the blood and saliva mixture that was caught in his over stretched throat as he tried to painfully forced it down, out of the way of his airway.

Sam was a mess and it hurt to see his little brother kneeling like a criminal on a prison floor. Jake's choice of position frightened him on all kinds of levels. He looked back anxiously at Jake and waited for what was to come.

"We know about the demon," Jake finally spat in Sam's bloodied face.

Sam's eyes flashed anxiously over to Dean's, whose had darkened at the mention of the demon.

Jake mercilessly yanked his head and attention back.

"Don't look at him, damn it! Look at me!" the dominating hunter chastised.

Dean's bloody lips stiffened as he watched his brother flinch from Jake's cruel handling. Sam was afraid. Dean knew his little brother well. He could read it in his body language, the way he blinked, how he sniffed, the tilted of his head slightly to the side. The mention of the demon had brought both of their fears to light.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by Jake's gruff voice.

"We also know about your mom and your girl friend," he stated flatly.

It angered the experienced demon hunter that the two women had been victims of the demon and its war against humanity and he blamed the youngest Winchester for his connection to it. He was eager to break Sam, get the information he needed to thwart the demon, and then prevent Sam from ever hurting anyone again.

Weilding his words like an emotional knife, he began his attempt to break the boy. "Both women were brutally sliced and burned alive because of you," he hissed with disgust releasing the youngest Winchester's hair with a shove that snapped his head sideways.

Dean shifted angrily, detesting where this one sided conversation was going. His heart ached for his brother who already suffered so much guilt over Jessica's death and was starting to blame himself for his mother's as well.

He glanced behind him to determine Daniel's position, then began methodically working the arm on the right side of his chair. The bindings were unyielding and the lack of circulation to his hands made them painful, but the old wooden chair seemed to have a little give to it and Dean was determined to find a way to free himself and help his little brother.

Sam swayed momentarily when the hunter shoved his head, but was righted by Kyle and Joseph and then forced to look at Jake.

Practically nose to nose with his captor, Sam tried to stare the old hunter down with no show of emotion. But he just couldn't find the strength to look him in the eyes. The malicious hunter's words had burned into the very fabric of his being, and the guilt laced smoke that wafted from it choked the oxygen from his fragile heart.

Jake, recognizing Sam's expression to be the defeated look of an animal that had been downed but not killed, decided to take his emotional knife and run it right through him. The more near fatal blows he could deliver, the weaker Sam would become. and the easier it would be to break him. And he could tell this one wound he had found was deep and life threatening.

"Poor innocent girl. Jessica, wasn't it?"

Sam glanced up at the mention of her name and looked painfully at Jake.

"So beautiful with her long blond hair, so full of life, so loving and trusting..."

Sam pictured his beautiful Jessica in his mind. He could see her smile, feel her hair on his face, smell her perfume.

Sam wrinkled his eyebrows in sorrow. _Jess…_Her name wafted though the lonely corridors of his heart._ I'm so sorry_ his mind confessed, and he glanced sadly down. The blood still dripping from his temple and now being pulled by gravity, dropped silently to the hardwood floor below. His heart fell right along with it. The words were just too painful to hear.

"Go to hell!" Dean yelled as he watched his brother suffer a pain far worse than anything physical Jake could do to him.

Jake ignored Dean, lifted Sam's downcast head, and got right in his face.

"Poor girl probably had no idea what you are," he added in a sad, yet accusing voice.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Dean asked with anger dripping from his words, trying to gain an understanding of where the hunter was coming from in the hopes of countering and breaking up his cruel emotional commentary that was clearly hurting his little brother.

Jake snorted, annoyed that the hunter would even dare to ask a question he already knew the answer to.

Still, something inside of him wanted to declare it.

"Evil, damn it! You know he's connected to the damn thing, chosen and gifted to do its bidding!"

Sam looked up in horror trying to decide if Jake had discovered something about him that him and his brother hadn't, or whether he was merely guessing.

"Bullshit!" Dean spat out. "There isn't a god damn evil bone in his body!" His eyes grew black, daggers radiated out from them. "Demon's bidding? Son of a Bitch! You're such an asshole! He's stopping evil, not causing it!"

Daniel struck Dean to get him to shut up.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he saw his brother struck again. His vision was so messed up he couldn't tell if his brother's eyes were open or closed when Daniel stepped back. He blinked several times to clear it, but the wash of colors and haze increased, eliminating all possibilities for him to know. All he could make out was his brother's frame and blood, a lot of it all over his head and shirt.

"Liar! They're all working for it," Jake spat back. "You can lie all you want trying to protect him, but we already know the truth."

"You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the ass!" Dean hissed licking the blood from his lips. He attempted to look at Jake but had trouble locating the hunter's eyes because of his blurred vision.

Daniel moved to strike the insulting man again, but Jake, observing the Winchester struggling to maintain consciousness, put up his hand. "We still may need him."

Jake turned his attention back to Sam as he wiped the blood, that had oozed out through his fingers from the knife wound Dean had inflicted, on his already bloodied shirt. He was feeling tired, and he knew that wasn't a good sign. He needed to finish up soon and get his wound tended to in order to survive this ordeal. He needed to get the information that he came for, destroy the demon's soldiers, and go after the demon itself- once and for all wiping it off the face of the earth.

Frustrated that he had temporarily lost his emotional grip on Sam in regard to his mom and Jessica, he began trying to recover his line of questioning.

"You never gave your girlfriend a chance. Did you, you bastard?" he questioned accusingly.

"Go to hell!" Dean yelled protectively again, not caring if he took another hit. If it stopped Jake for even a minute, he would do it again.

Jake smiled wickedly over at Dean and, recognizing he'd sapped all the emotional pain he could using Jessica, readied to throw another emotional knife into the already gravely wounded boy's heart by attacking the other thing that was most valuable to him-his brother.

"You first," Jake replied as he nodded to Daniel who stepped forward.

Sam raised his head when he heard Daniel moving in on Dean.

"No! Please!" Sam begged. He wasn't sure his sibling's face could take much more without shattering into unrepairable pieces after the beating he had endured while Sam had been unconscious.

Daniel pulled back his hand and pelted Dean in the face. Sam looked worriedly at his brother's face for an indication that he was alright.

Dean licked his bleeding lip and smiled at Daniel projecting the façade that the hunter hit like a girl.

Inside his mouth, he checked his front teeth with his tongue to be sure they were all still in place.

Irritated by Dean's implication, Daniel moved to strike him again.

"Dean!" Sam hollered as he attempted to rise and take out the threatening hunter.

Jake leveled his weapon, taking aim at Dean, and looked daringly at Sam.

The youngest Winchester froze, backed down, and shook his head pleadingly.

Jake held his aim and nodded to Daniel. Sam watched in horror as he saw his already beaten brother get brutally slammed once again. He looked pleadingly over to Jake.

"You said you wanted answers," Sam questioned trying desperately to draw his attention away from Dean and onto himself.

Jake held up his hand in the stop position and Daniel regrettably complied.

Sam glanced over at Dean, relieved he was still conscious though another bloody trail was being blazed down his already crimson chin, and then whispered submissively, "What is it that you want to know?"

Dean shifted nervously when he heard his brother's tone. Sam was willing to do anything, even give himself up, if that's what it would take, to save him.

Sam needed to understand that it was his job to protect his little brother and not the other way around and that no matter what Jake threatened, Sam should not give himself up. It would be a death sentence for Sam to admit to this crowd that he was supernatural.

He looked over at his little brother, shook his head, and mouthed _no_.

Sam nodded_ yes_, apologetically, and returned his gaze to Jake.

Jake, pleased with Sam's decision, continued, preparing to ask the questions he and the other hunters needed to know before they could finish and leave.

"We know about the kids and their demonic…" he looked around the room and smiled at the other hunters, "…shall we say, talents?"

The other hunters nodded amused.

Dean stiffened with Jake's revelation. His fears were being realized. The bastards suspected if not already knew Sam had visions or at least some sort of ability connected to the demon. and there was a good chance that was what they were after all along. Dean decided to force Jake's hand and keep the bastard's attention on himself and away from Sam.

"Get to the point, will ya. Enough with the monologuing," Dean complained rolling his eyes for effect.

Jake looked at Dean; his blood pressure clearly rising.

"You want the point, asshole? The point is we're in a war and evil's looking like it's holding all the cards."

"Wow, that's brilliant. Did you figure that out all by yourself or did these ladies help you out?" Dean mocked, trying to keep Jake's attention on himself and off of Sam.

Jake ignored the comment and returned his attention to Sam knowing the best way to screw Dean was to go after his brother.

"And, you, you're a part of it. Maybe even the crux," Jake said seethingly. "I'm gonna figure out what your demon friend is up to and how you fit in."

Dean's eyes darkened as he gritted his teeth, shook his head in disbelief, and looked at Sam to gage his reaction.

Sam shook his head, his face radiating denial, confusion and fear. He hated the demon. More than anything else. It killed his mom. It killed Jess. He had no idea what it was up to, and he hoped to God he didn't fit into anything. The thought scared the crap out of him.

Jake brutally grabbed Sam's face to stop his denial.

"Yes!" he corrected harshly. "I'm not only gonna figure out what your demon friend is up to and how you fit in, but you are going to help me. I want to know about the demon and the powers the damn thing gave you, and you're going to tell me, or so help me, God,..."

Jake trembled with hatred, his conviction so deep it threatened is sanity. He quickly glanced around the room to see if the other hunters had seen his brief loss of control, then deep sighed when he realized it had gone unnoticed, and forced himself ot focus.

"See me and the boys are going to hunt the damn thing down, destroy it and all its plans and...," Jakes eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked menacingly at Sam, "...and destroy all the bastards who work for it!"

Sam's eyes teared, and looked away denying everything Jake was saying.

Jaked smiled, enjoying the despair that radiated off of him and then he continued.

"Now I'm only gonna ask you this once, so you damn well better give me the answer I'm looking for." The cruel hunter shook Sam's face and demanded he look at him.

"What powers do you possess?"

Sam squirmed in Jakes grasp, but didn't reply. He looked anxiously over at Dean.

Jake was infuriated by Sam's refusal to comply. "I said, 'Don't look at him,' damn it!" Jake cursed, striking Sam brutally across the face with his weapon.

Sam's head swung hard to the right and the room seemed to swing right along with it and he felt himself falling backwards. Forceful hands vice gripped his arms and yanked him back up on his knees. The motion made him nauseous and he leaned forward and gagged. Jake seized him by the chin and haul his head up. He attempted to stare down his oppressor, but he found it too difficult to focus his gaze. Though the impact of the weapon had been marginal, the concussion in Sam's head seemed exacerbated by it. He looked blurry eyed in Jake's direction as he swayed uncoordinatedly. Jake's face was looking like a water color painting…fuzzy around the edges, but colorful none the less. Blood now oozed from his mouth where his teeth had been forced through his lip.

"Sure as hell isn't defending himself now is it?" Jed mocked tucking Dean's weapon inside his waistband, not excpecting to need it, based on Sam's clearly incapacitated behavior.

The other hunters laughed in unison.

Dean bit his lip and furiously tried to loosen the arms on his chair. It was clear these hunters had one thing in mind and he feared for his little brother's life.

While Jake was distracted gloating, Sam glanced over at Dean as swirling white spots once again danced in front of his vision making it impossible for him to see his brother's face. He was unsure of how to answer Jake's question. His mind was a muddled mess of thoughts, and he just couldn't tell if he was thinking straight. The hunters weren't threatening Dean's life this time, right? So there was no need to admit he had abilities, or was there? Sam couldn't figure it out and sought out Dean for some direction. The swirling lights stilled into single star-like points, and Sam tried looking between them for Dean.

Dean knew that acknowledging abilities to this group of hunters, who had concluded that supernatural abilities meant partnership with the demon, would be a death sentence for Sam. Like Gordon, they were incapable of seeing in shades of gray, that Sam's abilities could be used against the demon, as Dean had seen his little brother thwart evil with his visions in the past.

Telling them Sam's specific ability was clearly out of the question. It would be the final nail in his brother's coffin. They would keep him alive as long as they didn't get their questions answered. Sam would need to conceal his abilities and project that he was an innocent victim in all of this demon shit in order to stay alive. Dean reasoned it shouldn't be too hard to project that. After all, he really was. Dean firmly believed that. He just wasn't sure Sammy did. He would need to, if he were going to convince Jake of it. Then, maybe his brother could make it out of this in one piece.

Dean looked sympathetically at his defenseless brother and barely shook his head. The look in his eyes confirmed the nearly undetectable motion, and Sam understood what to do.

The youngest Winchester closed his mouth and didn't respond.

His silence provoked Jake. He punched Sam in the face forcing his teeth deeper into the already torn tissue of his now blood draining lip and spraining his jaw. Sam's sight once again blurred as the stars exploded back into swirling masses of light, and he blinked to try to keep his focus.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean cursed as he saw his brother's head jerk back from the impact. "He's a victim, damn it! Just like mom and …," he hesitated to mention Jess, not wanting to pain his brother. "He's NEVER sided with the demon! Dean cursed as he continued trying frantically to work the arm of the chair and release his hand. Even with all his struggling, the chair offered little give, and the bindings offered even less.

"I know you're one of them, damn it!" Jake insisted. "And I know you're all working together. I will not allow you to complete the demon's plans. I'll go to my grave and take you with me if I have to!" Jake yelled in Sam's face as little spit balls flung from his mouth. "Now, don't make me ask again!"

Dean tensed as Sam looked down toward the floor. He couldn't tell if his brother was losing consciousness or simply refusing to answer.

Sam's head rose seconds later as he looked directly at his tormentor and Dean knew.

Jake kneed Sam in the gut when he refused to answer. He lurched forward coughing and gasping for the air that had been forcefully removed from his lungs. Kyle and Joseph lifted him roughly back to his knees while Jake grabbed his head once again and forced the youngest Winchester to look at him.

Jake waited as Sam knelt silently before him. The only sound that escaped his lips was the intake and exhale of air. His head periodically nodded forward as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, but he would pull it up before it touched his chest.

Not getting a direct answer and figuring one would not be coming, Jake decided to ask him about his abilities and gage from his reaction, which one was his.

"Can you _move things_ with your mind?" Jake questioned angrily studying Sam's response carefully for any sign of acknowledgement.

Sam looked straight into his eyes. His mind went to Max. _How did Jake know about Max?_ His thoughts were a swirl of confusion and he felt himself listing to the right. Firm hands once again straightened him. Still, he did not respond.

Jake grabbed Sam's shoulders and forced him downward as he drew his knee upwards against his already oxygen deprived chest. Sam's body shot upwards from the force. Jake's knee found its way up to Sam's throat and his head snapped back. Sam fell helplessly to the floor as pain engulfed his damaged ribcage and his neck throbbed as streams of pain laced out in all directions and his airway began to swell.

"Guh! God…," Sam yelped and coughed.

"Stop!" Dean yelled as he jerked on his ropes. "Son of a bitch! I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!" he growled out.

"Bastards!" Ellen hissed. Jo had to turn away. Jed gripped his weapon tighter and held it steady, aimed at Ellen.

Kyle and Joseph grabbed Sam's writhing body up off the floor and forced Sam to his knees.

Sam swayed with the pain and struggled to breathe as fear and his closing airway threatened to suffocate him.

"Can you _read minds_?" Jake asked threateningly, once again eyeing the young man for any kind of reaction.

Sam refused to answer again. _How did he know about Rosie? Only he and his brother knew about her and maybe her mother, who had suspected her daughter's abilities, but didn't actually know they were possible._ He tried to brace himself, knowing what was coming next, and he looked over to Dean for some sense of comfort and strength.

Dean tensed as he watched Jake's pupils grow larger.

Jake grabbed Sam by the shoulders, forced him downward, and kneed him in the chest again, this time more forcefully.

Sam's chest gave way with a crack and he collapsed forward on the floor.

"NO!" Dean hollered. Daniel held him tightly to the back of his chair as Dean twisted and fought furiously. Tears filled his eyes as anger raged inside of him.

Jake grabbed Sam's hair and smacked his head against the floorboards, then yanked it back. "Answer me, damn it!" Jake ordered the gasping Winchester.

"Guh!" Sam cried out. "Go...to..hell," he choked out as blood spewed from his mouth spraying across the room."

Jake wiped the spattered blood off of his face with the back of his hand, smiled and smeared it down the side of Sam's face and threw him back to the floor.

Sam's head thudded and this time, didn't move.

"I'm gonna freakin kill you, Jake!" Dean hissed through glistening eyes. "I'm gonna kill all of you!"

Dean struggled furiously yanking and pulling hard with all his might. He was willing to break his wrists if it would enable him to slip through the bindings and help his brother.

Unable to break free, Dean stood up with the chair still attached to his ankles and wrists and hurled himself at Jake. It was an act of pure rage. He could not sit idly and watch Jake destroy his little brother, and on the off chance he could stop him, he was willing to try.

Jake's already wounded body took the full impact poorly. The element of surprise was in Dean's favor. He flew back as Dean's bound body collided with his and toppled him to the floor. The arm of the chair pressed deep into Jake's side and Dean heard a crack. Jake's weapon flew from his hand again as his head smacked the floor.

Kyle and Joseph, along with Daniel lurched to pull Dean off of Jake who appeared dazed and slow to recover.

Sam struggled to rise, unnoticed, to his feet behind Kyle and the others. Swaying, with one arm wrapped around his searing, painful ribs and the other up at his head trying to counter the pain that was almost incapacitating, Sam struggled to make his way over to aid his brother. While Kyle and Joseph helped Jake to his feet recovering his weapon, Daniel slammed Dean's chair back to the floor with the eldest Winchester still helplessly bound to it. As Kyle punched Dean in the face and cursed him, Jed hollered out a warning.

"Kyle, behind you! Behind you!"

But it was too late. Sam had reared up and kicked him as hard as he could in the kidneys.

Kyle stumbled forward groaning in pain and turned to the already staggering Winchester whose unsteadiness and attack had forced him off balance. Dean watched in horror as Kyle grabbed Sam's face and shoved him backward sending his concussed sibling hard to the floor.

Infuriated at the cruelty of the hunter in using such force on his already incapacitated brother, Dean attempted to raise himself once again. But Kyle spun around and hit him with a left hook.

The force of the blow sent Dean's world spinning. He shook his head as he tried to slow his world to a focus-able stop.

Jake cursed as his ribs pained him with each intake of air. His head ached and he shook it to try to get his world to stop spinning uncontrollably on its axis. He ordered Kyle, who was also in pain, and Joseph back to Sam's side and cursed Daniel for not keeping Dean under control. Then he walked up to Dean and without saying a word, struck him violently with the butt of his gun.

Dean's head snapped back with the force of each impact, and though he struggled to keep his focus, his world eventually went black.

Jake spat a mixture of blood and saliva at the unconscious man, then wiped the dripping blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

oooOOOooo

Jake's wound had begun seeping again, and the hunter staggered slightly before gaining his composure. Once he had gained control of himself, he set out to re-established his command over the situation.

"Get the boy up!" Jake ordered Kyle and Joseph.

The two brothers studied Jake as the injured hunter pressed one hand hard to his wound to stay the bleeding and the other to check on the knot at the back of his head.

Jake glared at them and they obliged.

Sam, unconscious again, hung limply in their hold as they dragged his body across the blood smeared floor to Jake and threw him down at his feet.

Jake looked at the unconscious kid before him.

"Damn it, Daniel, I need him awake!" Jake cursed growing more and more frustrated with how things were going.

"I'll get some water…for both of them," Kyle offered. He passed Ellen on the way to the sink and sneered at her. "Bitch, get me some water. Now!"

"No," Jake corrected. "I want her there. Jed, you keep watch. Kyle, get it yourself." Jake knew what Ellen was capable of and wasn't about to give her a chance to cause trouble.

Ellen smiled sarcastically at Kyle, mocking the fact that he wasn't in charge and never would be.

He spit on the floor as he passed her. She turned her head away in disgust.

oooOOOooo

Moments later, both Winchester's were wet and stirring.

Dean awoke in fight mode and had to be restrained by Daniel, who placed a hand forcefully on his shoulder and a boot on the rung of his chair to hold him down. He glanced around the room for Sam and found his brother once again helpless in the arms of Kyle and Joseph. The sight was disheartening.

Sam had been forced into a kneeling position again, though he was now sitting on the back of his legs, too out of it to hold himself up. Dean stiffened as Jake kicked Sam's knees apart making it more difficult for him to try anything, not that it was likely that he would or even could. His little brother's head moved erratically above his shoulders as it bobbed up and down, nearly dropping to his chest until he brought it up again. Over compensating, his head would then swing back only to be pulled too far forward, and the process of righting it repeated over and over again. He wheezed loudly as his lungs attempted to pull air in and out fighting against ribs that were out of place and imposing. Sam was a mess and Dean was hard pressed to figure out what to do to help him.

Having finally found the right balance in his neck to raise his head up, Sam slowly opened his eyes and tried to take in the world around him. The water which had been thrown in his face had mixed with the blood that was there, creating a swirling mess that dripped onto his shirt and the floor. His injured throat was swelling and it was getting harder to swallow and breathe. His ribs created stabbing pains with each breath, wet raspy wheezes accompanied them. He attempted to look and check on Dean, but was abruptly turned away from his brother and toward Jake.

"Where were we?" Jake mocked attempting to project control once again. He glared over at Dean. "Oh, yes, I believe I was asking questions and you or your brother were going to answer them…or die trying."

"Go to hell," Dean replied.

Jake ignored Dean and looked threateningly back at Sam before he continued.

"Can you _make people do things?"_ Jake asked deliberately.

Dean knew it before he even finished his sentence. It's the only way he could have known. "You've been following us," he stated angrily as he silently cursed himself for not having been aware of it.

"Damn straight, genius! You led us directly to them. You took out Max and Andy's brother for us. We're handling the rest. In fact, Gordon's taking Andy out as we speak."

Dean tensed when he heard Gordon was involved. "Son of a bitch," he whispered under his breath through clenched teeth. He screwed up his lips and his eyes went black as coal. He cursed himself for not having taken out that bastard when he had the chance. Next time, he'd string him up from the ceiling and not leave the knife behind.

"Oh, and by the way," Jake sarcastically added, "he sends his regards. Asked me to give you something for him."

Dean nodded his head, knowing what was coming.

Jake gestured to Daniel, and he fisted Dean in the face knocking him over backwards in his chair.

Dean took the hit bravely refusing to give Jake, Daniel, or Gordon, wherever the so dead hunter was, the satisfaction of thinking they could hurt him.

Jake smiled, amused by Dean's stubbornness. He knew how to get to Dean, and it wasn't through hurting him.

"Get him up," Jake insisted and set his sights on Sam. He smiled sickeningly at the youngest Winchester.

Now uprighted, Dean shifted nervously wishing he could bring Jake's attentions back to himself. He attempted to cause a commotion, but Jake belted him and held him fast to the chair. Dean would have continued, but he knew he could do little to prevent what was coming, and he needed to be conscious for his little brother's sake, to be there for him, with him, through whatever he would have to face.

Jake merely glanced over for a moment, and, seeing that Daniel had everything under control, returned to Sam.

"And of course, we had to take cute little Rosie out," he stated stoically looking directly at Sam.

"Guh! (wheeze) You son of a (cough) bitch," Sam wheezed out as his chest screamed in pain. "You ..(cough)…killed the _baby_?" he questioned, shocked with tears in his eyes. "She was (wheeze) only six months (cough) old."

Dean was terrified as he watched his little brother struggle to speak and breathe. His eyes began to sting and slowly filled with tears. It was obvious his brother's broken ribs had caused internal injuries and the redness and swelling on Sam's neck was scaring the shit out of him. Dean was fearful that his little brother might not be able to breathe for much longer.

"She was one of them, as are you!" Jake spat back. "The question remains… what can you do?"

Sam, more shocked than stubborn, didn't answer the question.

Jake pulled his weapon and put it against Sam's thigh.

Before the young hunter had a chance to reply, he pulled the trigger.

_BAM! _

It was so unexpected that everyone in the room except Jake jumped. Ellen cursed and jumped to her feet searching to see if Sam was alive. Jo screamed and clung to her mother's arm.

"Guh. God. Oh god," Sam cried out as a world of pain attacked his body. He gasped for air and began coughing violently. Tears fell from his pain filled eyes. Kyle and his brother tugged mercilessly on him to try to keep him upright, but eventually let him fall to the floor.

Dean jumped when the weapon went off and watched in horror as his brother fell helplessly to the floor.

"SAM!"

He couldn't see exactly where Sam took the hit, and he was terrified. He attempted to stand, but his bindings prohibited him. It infuriated him to be so helpless and he fought his ropes in rage.

"You bastard! You son of a bitch! You are so dead! I will make it slow and painful," he spat. "You're gonna beg for mercy! You hear me!" Dean threatened with tears in his eyes.

"Sammy?" the older brother cried out desperate to connect with his little brother.

Jake held the gun to Sam's head and looked at Dean. "You think I'm freakin foolin around here! Answer the damn question!"

Dean froze and held his breath.

"You got three seconds. What is his ability"

"1-2-..."

"He has visions! OKAY! Now leave him alone!" Jo screamed out as she stood up. It took her a minute to realize it was even her voice screaming.

Ellen grabbed her trembling daughter and sat her back down, fearing Jed's movement in her direction.

Sam lay crumpled on the wooden floor rocking back and forth as he attempted to manage the pain. His hands desperately grasped his thigh attempting to put pressure on the bleeding limb.

"Dean! Guh! Oh, god, Dean. Shit. Oh, shit. Guh," he cried out as waves of pain radiated out from his chest from the movement. His breath dissolved into a fit of coughs.

"Sam!" Dean called out desperately to his little brother. He could hear Sam's sounds, hear his brother calling to him for help, but he couldn't help, couldn't even see his brother's body well enough to know how serious the injury was.

He looked at Kyle and Joseph. "Where's he hit, damn it! Where's he hit?"

Jake ignored the question and callously replied, "Wrap it and let's keep going."

Kyle pulled off Sam's belt and wrapped it around his leg just above the entrance wound as Sam moaned and squirmed.

"Get him up!" Jake demanded.

Kyle and Joseph yanked Sam back up and forced him to kneel again. The position was extremely painful for the bullet pierced limb and tears streamed down from Sam's wincing face.

Dean could see Sam now from the angle he was positioned. His left pant leg was turning red, and it was clear he had been hit in his thigh based on the placement of the belt.

Dean sighed in relief. At least it wasn't in his brother's chest near his heart. Sam's face was sweaty, screwed up in pain, and his body was beginning to tremble.

Dean looked around desperately to try to find a way to get out of the situation before Sam suffered Jake's next question. He tugged furiously on the arm of the chair and was surprised to find it starting to give way. He began the same methodical back and forth movement on the other arm, hopeful that it too would give way soon. He looked over at Jake as he approached his brother.

Jake lifted Sam's face and looked into his eyes. "Visions…what the hell kind of ability is that?"

Jake knew that Sam wouldn't talk so he placed the .45 on his other thigh.

Sam looked back at Dean as tears of pain fell from his eyes. Jake had crossed a line when he shot Sam and Dean knew he would cross it again. He nodded sadly, and Sam nodded in agreement. He spoke up with a shaky, wheezing voice. "I (_gasp_)… (_cough_), Guh! God," Sam swallowed painfully and tried again. "I (_wheeze_) can (_wheeze, cough_)...I can ..(_cough, cough, cough_) ahh, god, oh god..."

Dean, realizing Sam couldn't catch his breath and fearing Jake would fire, filled in for him.

"He sees things that are going to happen, damn it."

Jake looked at Dean, then back to Sam unimpressed. He narrowed his eyebrows for a moment and then understanding flashed across his face.

"Demon related things, am I right?" Jake concluded. "Cuz we know you are connected to the damn thing!"

Sam remained quiet, though his coughing and wheezing spoke volumes. His head was throbbing, suffering searing spikes of excruciating pain whenever he coughed. He couldn't think, couldn't breath, could hardly see, and he could feel himself fading. Drawing in air was getting more and more difficult, and he was tasting blood. It wasn't from his lip but was rising from the back of his throat. He turned his head to look for his brother. He needed to know he was there, to see him one last time, to let him know how much he loved him and didn't blame him for any of this.

Dean saw his little brother turning for him, and he waited in anticipation to make eye contact with him; to try to encourage him to hang on; to gesture to the chair indicating that it was about to give way; that he was about to take Jake and the other misguided bastards to their graves.

But just as Sammy's wandering eyes were about to make contact with the blurry blob that was his older brother, Jake cruelly yanked Sam's head away.

"They're all demon helpers! Killers!" Jake growled. "I told you!" he bragged to the other hunters who acknowledged his declaration.

Dean, fearing where this was going, chastised him and attempted to get the listening hunters to think.

"No! We use the visions to **stop** evil, to stop the damn demon and his plans. IF you weren't so damn blind, you'd realize Sam isn't a threat to you, NONE of you!" He stated looking around at the other hunters. "We hunt evil just like you do! Sam has never…"

Dean silenced and began shaking his head _no _as Jake put the barrel of his weapon to Sam's forehead.

His little brother squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the cold tip against his battered forehead and screwed up his lips in anticipation of the shot. Dean trembled as he felt his brother's life was soon to be ended.

"No…" he whispered shaking his head and pleading. "Don't do it, Jake," Dean begged, " Please. Don't do it."

Jake, appeased by Dean's submission and wanting to gain more information from the youngest Winchester, removed the gun and began tapping it gently against his own hand.

Dean nodded as a tear of relief trickled down the side of his face.

Sam's face somewhat relaxed, though his hands continued to tremble in shock at his sides.

Jake, having established control once again, deepened his voice and continued his questioning.

"Are there any others? Like you, I mean. Supernatural demon helpers, Sam?" Jake asked slyly.

"No," Sam wheezed almost breathlessly, looking down at his gunshot leg. He tried to wiggle his toes and get circulation down to them as he felt his leg going numb, but either his position or his wound would not allow it.

Jake, seeing Sam's downward glance, didn't believe him.

"How many?" he questioned flatly.

Sam shook his head slowly from side to side and looked pleadingly up at Jake. "Nhhhhone" he mouthed voicelessly. It was the truth. Sam and Dean knew of no others, but he knew Jake would not believe him.

Jake stiffened his lip, infuriated by the answer. Sam had to know others, and he was not going to let the Winchester boy keep any of them hidden from them. He took his weapon and held it up to Sam's shoulder.

Sam began struggling, fearing what was about to come. The movement jarred his broken ribs, and he gasped in pain and dissolved in a torrent of coughs and wheezing intakes. Blood spattered from his mouth and he gasped to try to take in air.

Stoically, Jake restated the question. "I _asked_ how many _others _like you are out there?"

"None, damn it! NONE! We found them all!" Dean declared emphatically, desperately hoping to satisfy Jake's questioning and draw his attention away from his struggling brother.

Jake accepted Dean's answer. He believed the brothers didn't know of any others, not yet anyways. Sam might have lied if his own life was at stake, but Dean would never lie if his brother's life was threatened. If he had known of any, he would have said so.

Jake lowered the weapon.

Dean let out the breath he was holding relieved that his brother had been spared another shot.

Jake paused. He knew there had to be more kids with abilities. The war that was brewing indicated there'd be an army of them, and he was determined to find and kill each and every one of them.

He looked slyly at Sam. "How did you find Max and the rest? Huh? The visions? What?"

Dean tensed. He knew this was probably the last question Jake had and, if Sam answered it, he'd have no reason to keep his brother alive.

Before Dean could think how to answer in a way to protect Sam, a second shot rang out.

The sound was deafening, not only in volume, but emotionally as well! Dean watched in horror as his little brother's body jerked back before being forced forward by the men who were holding him.

"NOOOO!" Dean cried out. "SAMMY!"

Dean looked murderously at Jake. "YOU BASTARD! Untie me and let's get this over with. You and me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you! You will never be dead enough! All of you! I swear it!" he spit with great malice as tears fell down his face. "Sammy!"

Daniel grabbed Dean forcefully by the shoulders and held him down in his chair trying to prevent a repeat of the eldest Winchester's flying attack.

"Damn it, Jake!" Kyle cursed as he and his brother wiped Sam's splattered blood off their faces. "This isn't what we talked about."

"This is how it is, Kyle. Deal with it!" Jake pulled his weapon back away from Sam's shoulder. He aimed it at Kyle. "There's no going back. Tom, James, Bo, Dan…They can't go back!"

Kyle looked back at Jake and nodded, letting him know that he and his brother were with him and willing to go forward with the plan.

Sam's body, broken, concussed, and now leaking large amounts of blood, collapsed beneath him, and he plummeted helplessly toward the floor. Kyle and Joseph just let him drop.

Dean watched in horror as his little brother's body gave out. Tears streamed from his face as he watch him suffer on the hardwood floor. He almost wished his tormented sibling could slip into unconsciousness, unaware of his body's agony, but feared that if he did, he might never wake up.

A growing puddle of blood began pooling beside him and Dean knew Sam was going to bleed out if he didn't do something soon.

Jake pointed his weapon back at Sam. "Answer the damn question! NOW!"

Jake's words sounded as if they were spoken in slow motion, muddied and unrecognizable. Sam was unable to think. The lack of oxygen was finally claiming his ability to think, to reason, to remain awake. His body was shaking, his head pounding. He felt as if his shoulder was on fire. His leg had lost all feeling below his knee. His world began spinning around him and he desperately wanted to get off.

Suddenly, he felt a calm covering him like a blanket and the pain seemed unable to penetrate it to get to him. He felt his body exhale as he welcomed the calm and drifted off into its promising nothingness. As his body stilled, somehow, a soft plea escaped his lips.

"Dea….."

Sam's soft call rattled the very fibers of Dean's being. Sam was at his breaking point and all he could do was cry out his brother's name. Always before, that call received an answer. Some how, some way, Dean had always been able to turn things around, to protect and save his little brother. This time, Dean feared, he wouldn't be able to. _Think, think damn it, think!_ Dean's mind was a fog of fear, anger, desperation and the hunter in him was unable to think past the brother in him who was watching his little brother dying before his eyes.

"The visions!" Dean blurted out suddenly, deliberately leaving out the research part of it. "We found the others through his visions! If there are any others, you'll need Sam's visions to find them," he declared exhaling heavily.

Jake looked suspiciously at Dean and then back at Sam who was now lying still, staring up at the ceiling half conscious. His eyes were beginning to glaze over. His quick shallow, wet, wheezing breaths indicated his respiratory distress, and Jake knew he wouldn't last much longer.

Dean saw Jake staring at Sam but not making any attempts to prolong his life. Fearful of what Jake might be thinking, he added deceitfully, "There's **no **other way to find them."

Still, Jake did nothing.

"You're stupidity is about to cost you your only chance to find the rest-to get the demon! Help him! HELP HIM!" Dean begged.

Jake paused and began thinking as he put his hand to his chest and checked out his wound. Over time his shirt had slowly changed from a denim blue to a muddied purple as the red blood had slowly leaked out from the wound Dean had inflicted and been absorbed by the blue fabric. He felt tired, weary as if he needed to sit down, and he looked around at the others to see if they had noticed he was fading. He didn't want to give them a chance to take over, not until he got what he came for.

Jake's slowness to respond to Dean's urging caught the other hunter's attention, though they didn't realize the reason had been his injury and not the question itself.

Kyle looked over at Jake. "You're not seriously thinking of keeping the kid to hunt the rest are you?"

Dean waited. If the answer was yes, Jake would keep Sam alive and wouldn't hurt him anymore. Right now, he needed Jake to help Sam or at least to back off.

"He's practically dead already. Isn't it too late for that?" Jed barked.

Kyle and Jed looked over to Jake waiting for the hunter's decision.

Jake paused and Dean, Ellen, and Jo held their breaths.

"No" he stated flatly looking back at the others. "We're not gonna keep him. The kid dies today. We knew the outcome before we started. We can't keep one of _these_ alive to help us. In the end, he'll be our demise."

Kyle, Jed and Daniel nodded in agreement. Joseph remained silent.

"Take him out back and kill him." Jake stated coldly.


	4. Bleeding Out

**Previously on Supernatural Ambush**

Kyle looked over at Jake. "You're not seriously thinking of keeping the kid to hunt the rest are you?"

Dean waited. If the answer was yes, Jake would keep Sam alive and wouldn't hurt him anymore. Right now, he needed Jake to help Sam or at least to back off.

Jake paused and Dean, Ellen, and Jo held their breaths.

"No" he stated flatly looking back at the others. "We're not gonna keep him. The kid dies today. We knew the outcome before we started. We can't keep one of _these_ alive to help us. In the end, he will be our demise."

Kyle, Jed and Daniel nodded in agreement. Joseph remained silent.

"Take him out back and kill him." Jake stated coldly.

**Chapter 4**

"**NOOOO**!" Dean howled in anguish as he struggled furiously, still helplessly bound to the old wooden chair. "Jake, listen to me. You **need** him! He can **help **you! Don't do this! Don't you dare do this!"

Jake remained stoic as if unable to hear the desperate man.

Dean, realizing Jake could not be reasoned with, turned to the other hunters standing idly in the room as his little brother was given his death sentence.

"There are others……. He can help you find them," Dean offered receiving no response. "Don't do this... Please?" he pleaded. "He's innocent, I swear it!" He searched their eyes one by one, but saw nothing to offer him hope.

Dean shook his head as tears filled his eyes. A soft plea of _no _wafted from his devastated lips. He glanced down at Sam wondering if his brother was even aware of the judgment that had just been handed down against him and found himself searching his broken body for signs of life. The sight of his little brother lying eerily still, with bruised and bloodied features which made him almost unrecognizable, broke him. Sam's eyes were closed and soon to be sealed by the pooled blood that was drying in and around them. His casted arm was lying straight out across the floor, palm up and open, as if asking for help or his brother's hand. Sam's chest hitched as it struggled to rise and allow his damaged lungs to draw in the oxygen needed through his constricted airway to maintain his life.

Dean's eyes glistened as large tears flooded his lower lids, blocking his vision. He blinked them away so that he could keep watch over his brother's life, fearful that if he lost the ability to see Sam, his brother might slip away unnoticed. The tears rained down across his bloodied face. Like a tributary, traveling along on lower ground surging forward seeking a larger body of water to join with, they blazed a trail along the worried lines of his face to join with the already flowing streams of blood heading toward the crimson ocean that had formed beneath Dean's damaged lips.

Unaffected by Dean's desperate plea for his brother's life, Jake began barking out his orders, wincing as his broken ribs forced the air from his lungs as he spoke.

"Kyle, you and Joseph take him out back and execute him." Jake directed as he wrapped his arm around his damaged side.

"Daniel, you're with me," he added once he'd regained his breath and he gestured for the oversized hunter to approach him for a private conversation. He knew Dean would never allow his little brother to be executed and that the eldest Winchester was going to do everything within his power to prevent it or die trying, and he wanted to be sure Daniel was prepared.

Jake anticipated Dean's death with pleasure after seeing him in such support of his demon affiliated brother, but he also felt obliged to give the young hunter he had grown to respect through their encounter, an honorable death, a hunter's death, taken down in the heat of a hunt, and he wanted to be sure Daniel understood that, too.

Daniel moved forward to approach Jake and receive the man's counsel.

Jake's mind wandered as he saw the close of the hunt taking place before him, and though he'd suffered both losses and injuries, he was satisfied with the results. The missing puzzle piece he'd been looking for, Sam's visions, had been found and the demon's soldier was about to be taken out.

His mind began trying to form a picture of the demon's plans based on the weaponry he had discovered…telekinesis, mind control, mind reading and now visions. He reasoned the visions would allow the demon to direct his army from any location and possibly give the demon insight into what was taking place in the supernatural realms, if the possessor was able to manipulate or control them. _Damn_, _should've asked if Sam could control his ability_ the experienced hunter regretfully lamented. He guessed he'd have to get the information from the next visionary he encountered. Mind reading would be a valuable weapon to the enemy as well. With it, the demon could determine humanity's strategy to retaliate once the demon's soldiers initiated its war. The demon's soldier could use the weapon of mind control to manipulate mankind into a frenzy of confusion and possibly even use mankind against itself. Telekinesis would be a formidable weapon if used to dominate those who rebelled against the demon's plan. The picture he was forming was both frightening and vague, but did give the old hunter a glimpse of what might be coming and another way to identify the demonic soldiers man would be fighting against.

As Daniel moved forward to receive Jake's counsel, the deep in thought hunter became aware that neither Kyle nor his brother had done what he asked.

"Kyle! Joseph! I said take him out and kill him!"

Dean bit his lip as Jake called for Sam's death once again. He struggled with his bindings and the chair as he desperately tried to get either one to give, to free him so he could execute his hunt of the men who stood before him.

Both Kyle and his brother hesitated, both for different reasons. Kyle wasn't sure he wanted his little brother directly involved in the killing; Joseph wasn't sure they were doing the right thing.

"What's the problem, damn it?" Jake questioned angrily. "We're done here! Let's get on with it!"

Joseph glanced down at Sam and then looked back at Jake. Dean's words …._innocent victim…never did an evil thing_…. lingered in the torture hunters mind. He hesitated to speak up, but his conscience finally found its voice. He shifted nervously and then began.

"What if he's right, Jake?" Joseph asked glancing over to Dean.

Dean's head swung hopefully in the young man's direction. Kyle shifted nervously beside his questioning, younger sibling.

"I mean, what if he is a victim just like the others. In all the time we've been hunting him, did we really see him do anything evil?"

"His mother and his girlfriend were killed _because _of him, for god sake, if not killed _by_ him, Joseph." Jake gave a warning glance to Kyle suggesting that he better keep his brother in line.

"We don't know that, Jake. We know the demon was involved, but we don't know for sure if he was. And, what about Max? If Max was a fellow soldier for the demon, why would Sam take him out?"

"He didn't take him out. The police report said Max killed himself." Daniel chimed in wanting to move the discussion along and get to the end of the hunt.

"The bastard was there to save the damn thing," Jake barked growing annoyed by Joseph's questions

Dean glanced anxiously over at Sam who continued to bleed unconsciously on the floor. He felt every minute ticking by, preventing him from helping his gravely wounded brother. While he was relieved Joseph was questioning Jake's verdict, he could tell the hunter was not able to be reasoned with, and decided that it would be unfruitful in the end. He used the distraction to his advantage as he continued methodically rocking his wrist back and forth until the second arm of the old wooden captain's chair released the spindle it was connected to with a loud crack. The crack drew the attention of the others, but Dean quickly began coughing and moving the chair to cover the reason for the sound.

Jake, too preoccupied with his conversation with Joseph, only glanced over briefly, shot an annoying look at Dean for making such a commotion, and returned his attentions to the young challenging hunter.

Joseph still stood unmoving.

"What?!" Jake demanded looking threateningly at Kyle.

Kyle tapped his brother, but Joseph kept on.

"What about Andy's brother?"

"Andy killed his brother, not Sam. The psychic let Andy go, remember?" Jed tossed out willing to help the kid put the pieces together and move on.

"Think, damn it, Joseph, think!" Jake chastised. "We've been all through this! This demonic soldier hasn't killed any of the demon's kids. Even Rosie was pulled from the fire by these two!" Jake paused and pointed accusingly at Sam. "He runs around, directed by the demon through visions, trying to protect the damn thing's army! He may not have done anything evil, but he's helping it, protecting it! Enough's enough, Joseph!" Jake hissed and looked over to Kyle and back to his brother. " You gonna do this or not?!!"

Jake looked over to Daniel and Jed pleased that both were committed to seeing the psychic die. If he had to, he'd call on them to finish the hunt.

Joseph looked over to Kyle and then back at Jake. The seasoned demon hunter's reasoning made sense. It had before they started and it still made sense now. Joseph nodded to Jake and began to reach for Sam, but paused when his brother did not lean over with him.

This time, Kyle was hesitating. He didn't want his little brother to shoulder the responsibility of Sam's death, especially since he seemed unsure about the decision to begin with.

"Hey, Jake? Why don't Daniel and me take him out back? Joe can stay here and help keep an eye on things."

Dean watched nervously. Daniel was one hell of a monster and on the chance that Sam was taken out back and became conscious, Sam would have a better chance with Joseph and Kyle than with him. Relief washed over him when Jake gave Kyle his answer.

"No, I need Daniel here," the hunter emphatically stated. The cunning hunter had picked Joseph specifically because he knew that if anyone would fold to the police if they were caught, it would be him. He wanted the youngest brother completely involved to eliminate that risk, and he knew that the youngest brother would also never give up his older brother if they were both involved in the killing. Jake would only involve Daniel as a last resort. Jake studied Kyle's reaction and decided to use fear to motivate the hesitating hunters.

"Hurry up, Kyle! Do it while he's unconscious. It'll be easier on your brother that way," Jake offered feigning kindness though his motives were purely manipulative.

"Don't do it, Kyle," Dean cautioned. "Your brother's right. Just think it through."

Jake shot a threatening look to silence Dean. The eldest Winchester looked forward to the time when he wasn't just talking, but doing a hell of a lot more.

Kyle, not willing to cross Jake and wanting to protect Joseph from seeing Sam awake when shot, ignored Dean and nodded. He began to bend down and reach for Sam.

Realizing his nightmare was about to become reality, Dean began thrashing furiously. "Don't you touch him, Kyle! You hear me?! Don't you freaking touch him!"

Joseph was taken back by Dean's desperation. Something in him began to identify with Sam as a little brother, and Dean as the protective big brother Kyle was.

Dean sensed Joseph's hesitation and turned his attentions back to the younger brother. "Joseph," Dean called out pleadingly. "He's wrong abut Sam. They're all wrong about him. Sam's helping people, saving peoples' lives! He hunts evil, just like you. You don't want to do this. You don't want to murder an innocent ma..aaahhhh!"

Daniel cuffed Dean on the side of his head, then turned and stood over near Joseph in case there was going to be a problem. Kyle held his hand up to Daniel protectively, indicating there wasn't one.

Dean's vision was swirling once again and blood started leaking from his mouth where he'd bit his tongue when Daniel struck him. He shook his head and tried to regain his ability to see what was happening.

"Jed, give Joseph Dan's gun," Jake directed. "He would've liked his piece to be the one to take the demonic psychic down."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean cursed Jake as he heard him describing Sam's death. His vision was still swirling and he struggled to clear it, to see what they were doing to Sam.

Jed tossed the weapon which he had retrieved upon Dan's death to Joseph and then stepped back.

Kyle and Joseph leaned over to grab Sam's arms.

"No!" Dean hollered as his vision finally cleared. He watched in horror as they began cruelly dragging his wounded brother across the floor towards his death. A bloody smeared trail remained in his wake.

Dean began rocking the arms of the chair frantically and cursing the hunters in pure rage. "I'm gonna freakin kill you! Tear every one of you apart! I swear, so help me God, if you kill my brother, I'll kill you all!"

Once certain that Joseph was with them, Daniel began moving in Dean's direction anticipating the reality of Jake's warning.

(Author's Note...Could have left ya with a cliffy, but you've been too good to me and I love you guys too much! So read on!)

Seeing his brother's life being slowly pulled away from him, Dean became enraged and threw himself sideways. The old wooden chair, crashed down hard against the unforgiving floor boards taking the neighboring table down with it. Upon impact, the chair collapsed, having been weakened by the frantic tugging of the last hour of Sam's torment. Dean quickly slid his tied hands out of their fastened position and took cover behind the fallen table then desperately struggled to undo his bound legs. He needed to be mobile if he were to bring the hunters down. The one binding untied easily having been loosened from his launch earlier and he quickly kicked the leg free, the other binding was not as forgiving.

Seeing Dean's aggressive move, Jed moved forward to assist the other hunters. Kyle raised his weapon and fired hoping the bullet would pierce the table and take out the struggling hunter behind it. He went to take a second shot, but Daniel was now in the way. The oversized hunter grabbed the table and threw it aside eager to incapacitate the cornered prey behind it. Joseph stood still, unsure of what to do and Jake moved in on Sam, knowing it was the only way to incapacitate Dean.

Dean shot up like a rocket once the table cleared and, focusing all the pent up anger he had been unable to express in the last several hours into his fist, he punched Daniel brutally in the face. The shocked hunter's nose shattered upon impact and he was sent sprawling to the floor crushing the table he had strewn, beneath him. Its splintering shards stabbed deeply into the oversized man's back piercing flesh and cracking bone.

With Daniel no longer in the way, Kyle moved forward and took aim at the infuriated Winchester and prepared to shoot.

Dean's eyes widened in fear, not, for his own life, but for Sam's. His only thought was that he wouldn't be able to save Sam this time and his little brother was going to die.

Two shots rang out in unison. Dean flinched, waiting for the searing pain he knew was inevitable.

Kyle jerked back with a vacant expression in his eyes, a bloody spot in the middle of his forehead began to drip and then he dropped like dead weight to the bar room floor, his weapon fell right along with him. Across the room, the frozen Joseph jerked back and then dropped taking the partially lifted Sam down with him. A dead center hit to the chest caused him to bleed out almost instantly.

Completely surprised, Dean's eyes shot over to find Ellen and Jo had retrieved weapons, apparently from the back room, when left unattended and taken cover just inside the doorway.

Then Dean, in one fluid motion, flung himself outward onto the floor, recovered Kyle's dropped weapon, twisted, and shot Daniel who had righted himself and was coming on with a vengeance, then desperately turned the weapon on Jake, whom he'd seen make a move toward Sam.

Jed, having seen all hell break loose went over to stand with Jake, his weapon moving back and forth between Dean, Jo and Ellen.

Dean froze instantly at the sight of Jake once again holding his weapon trained on Sam. Everything inside of him wanted to launch himself at the bastard and rip him limb from limb and then shoot his brains all over the roadhouse walls for what he had done to Sam, but he was still bound to the damn chair by one leg and its presence impeded his ability for deftness. He would have emptied his clip into the son of a bitch, but he feared the bastard might squeeze out a shot when hit and Sam would be the recipient of the bullet, and he knew he couldn't take that chance. Dean feared that a mistake on his part would cost Sam whatever life his little brother had left in him. His only chance was to get Jake to drop his weapon or to distract his aim so he could get a clear shot.

"Drop it, Jake!" Dean demanded, with his arms extended straight out, his aim centered on Jake's forehead "Or I'll drop you where you stand!" he added in a tone, dripping with malice.

"You too, Jed!" Ellen growled out from behind the bar where she had recently maneuvered when the hunters were distracted by Dean's commotion. Her large rifle was pointed straight at Jed's head.

"Jo!" she beckoned to her daughter.

Jo moved slightly revealing the aim of her rifle…directly at Jed as well, but remained safely behind the doorway of the back room where her mother insisted she should stay.

Jake knew Ellen and what she was capable of, and now, she was like a mother bear defending her cubs. Question was, did she consider Sam to be one of them?

Jake, safely hidden from Jo and Ellen behind Jed, knew his only threat at the moment was Dean and he was confident Dean would waste him without a second thought if given the opportunity. He steadied his weapon aimed at Sam's head and attempted to take control of the momentarily lost situation.

"Back off…" he commanded Dean in a deep threatening voice.

Dean refused to comply. He knew there wouldn't be another chance at Jake. Sam was bleeding out and needed help immediately. He studied the cornered hunter looking for the moment he could safely exact his revenge.

"I'll splatter his psychic brains all over the god damned floor if you don't drop your weapon now!" Jake hollered out as he tightened his grip around his piece, attempting to steady his trembling hand. His finger whitened on the trigger.

Dean stiffened his lip as his finger pulsed on the trigger. _Damn it_, he cursed silently to himself. He didn't dare to risk the shot. The experienced hunter's weapon was holding its direct aim at Sam. Still, he held his ground desperately hoping for an opportunity to take a shot without endangering his gravely wounded brother.

"Do it now, damn it!" Jake demanded realizing he was running out of time and strength as his body began to succumb to his injuries. His hand began shaking more uncontrollably, his weapon along with it.

Dean looked worriedly at Sam as his brother's body lay deathly still, his breathing dangerously slow. He feared Jake's injuries were overtaking him and if he weren't careful, he might put Sam in danger from a misfire. Then he glanced hesitatingly over at Ellen, his eyes communicating the need to temporarily pass the responsibility of the situation over to her until he could manipulate Jake into a vulnerable position and take him out.

Ellen nodded almost undetectably.

Dean tightened his lips and loosened his grip on the piece. It went against everything he was feeling, to do so, but he knew that he was disadvantaged the way things were and he had no other choice, not without risking Sam. Crouching down slowly with his hands up in surrender, he laid it within reach on the floor in front of him.

"Slide it away!" Jake commanded as his body began to rebel against his commands. He looked fearfully over to Ellen and Jo verifying that their weapons were still aimed in his direction.

Dean skidded the weapon forward in Jake's direction and watched as the piece came to a stop four feet in front of the plotting Winchester, just far enough to make Jake consider it out of reach, but close enough for him to recover as soon as the opportunity presented itself and take Jake out. He prayed Jake or Ellen would somehow provide it fast as he knew Sam was slowly slipping away.

Considering Dean no longer the biggest threat, Jake turned his attention towards the girls. Dean watched hopeful that Jake would turn the weapon along with his attention, but the hunter's aim remained steadfast. He decided to take full advantage of his distractedness and began discreetly undoing the other rope to free his ankle. He kept his forward gaze, his shoulders straight and still. One could only detect his movements if one were looking for them.

"You too, Ellen! You and Jo drop it or I swear the air in this room will whistle through his head!"Jake hissed out.

"You'll be dead before the smoke clears," Ellen promised in a deep threatening voice.

"But you'll still lose the kid," Jake countered.

Jed shifted nervously as he continued moving his weapon back and forth between the two ladies.

Ellen was an expert at poker and bluffing was one of her specialties. "Kid's not gonna make it anyways, Jake. I'm just protecting my own. You and Jed get the hell out of my place and don't you ever show yourselves here again or I'll kill you on sight.

Jed paused, waiting for some direction from Jake.

Dean was horrified by Ellen's declaration about Sam. He knew why she said it. Jake had to believe he had no cards to play except to leave alive. Still, it was so close to the truth as he looked at his brother bleeding out on the floor, the words terrified him.

"What's it gonna be, Jake?" Ellen prodded in her determined husky voice.

Jake studied her eyes for a moment and then nodded. Holding the gun still aimed at Sam, he placed his free hand on Jed and pulled him back slightly indicating he should move towards the door.

Dean held his breath. There was nothing to keep Jake from shooting Sam on the way out and there was no way his little brother could take another hit. If he could get himself in between Jake and Sam, at least if Jake fired, he could take the hit for him. Relief washed over him as he finally felt the rope give way beneath his bloody fingers.

Ellen and Jo held their weapons poised. Ellen noticed that Jo's rifle was shaking ever so slightly. Her daughter was nervous and Ellen feared the tension building might throw things in Jake's favor, especially in regards to Sam. She decided the hunters needed to be disarmed.

"Both of you, drop your weapons before you leave. On the floor, nice and easy, now or we'll put them on the floor with you dead beside them."

Shifting nervously, Jo readied her rifle for a moving target.

Jed, now standing in front of Jake and recognizing he'd be the first to die, tossed his weapon to the floor, raised his hands and began backing up. Jake, standing behind Jed looked over at Dean and back at Ellen.

Dean watched as Jake's eyes flew open wide and the cruel hunter grabbed Jed and held him in front like a shield. The demon hunter momentarily lost his aim on Sam as Jed struggled to get his balance and jostled Jake, whose wounded body had difficulty holding firm.

Dean, seizing the moment, launched himself to recover the weapon only a few feet from his position, and rolled, scrambling over to Sam desperately trying to protect his fallen brother from further injury.

Realizing the situation was out of control, the experienced hunter now at the door, repositioned his weapon for Sam and readied to shoot. Seconds later, he pulled the trigger.

Dean's body slid into place creating a shield for Sam as he fired his weapon. A searing pain blazed a trail through his left arm as he emptied his barrel into Jake.

Multiple rounds fired inside the roadhouse until there was nothing but a haze and silence that hung in the air.

Before the smoke cleared, Jed and Jake were dead on the floor.

(Author's Note...Yep! Could have left ya with another cliffy, but like I said, I love you guys too much! So read on!)

oooOOOooo

Ellen and Jo turned to look at each other, Ellen to see if Jo was okay, Jo for some assurance. Ellen nodded to Jo.

"Joanna Beth, call 911" she directed as she began to make her way over to where Sam lay fallen. "Dean?" she questioned fearfully when she saw Dean sprawled across Sam not knowing if he had taken a hit.

"Yeah," Dean answered lifting himself up off his brother when she arrived. Blood trickled from the wound on his newly penetrated arm.

Ellen reached over to check him, but he brushed her away clearly not caring about himself or his arm and focusing completely on Sam. He glanced over his little brother's damaged frame.

"Sammy?" his trembling voice beckoned. His eyes began blurring with tears as he took in his brother and all the blood that lay on and around him.

"Jeezus," Dean sighed.

Ellen dropped to the floor on the opposite side of Sam and began pulling Joseph's dead body out of Dean's way as he began trying to care for his gravely wounded brother.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered as he gently turned his sibling's head trying to get Sam to look at him. "You hear me?... Sammy?"

Sam's eyes stared, empty and unresponsive. His breathing was raspy and wet.

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder to jostle his brother slightly in the hopes that the motion might make his brother respond. Still, Sam remain unresponsive and he feared what would happen if his brother didn't arouse soon. As his hand touched his little brother's shoulder, he felt warm blood oozing out between his fingers.

"Aw, god…" Dean whispered as he glanced down at his crimson hand. He began frantically unbuttoning his outer shirt.

Ellen immediately placed her palm against Sam's leaking wound and pressed down hard as Dean removed his shirt and balled it. He took her place, pressing the garment firmly into Sam's shoulder to try and slow the bleeding. He called his brother again trying to get him to respond. "Sammy? C'mon kiddo, give me a sign here, huh?... Cut your big brother a break? ... Sam?"

At the sound of his brother's voice, Sam's vacant stare cleared and his eyelids closed slowly and reopened. As he stirred, his wheezing became more pronounced.

Dean gently tilted Sam's head up trying to open his airway. The new position offered some temporary relief and Sam's eyes moved slightly towards his brother.

"That's it, little brother," Dean offered softly. "Just breath. You're gonna be okay. You hearin me? You're gonna be okay." Dean's hand remained firm against his brother's shoulder.

Sam looked over in the direction of Dean's voice. His eyes searched sluggishly for his brother's face. He just needed to see him, to see he was there, to look in his eyes and see that everything was going to be okay. His pain filled eyes looked up into Dean's and he blinked slowly.

"Hey," Dean tenderly offered trying to steady his voice as it quivered. His eyes were both compassionate and fearful. His stomach sickened as he felt Sam's warm blood soak through the shirt he had just pressed against his sibling's wound.

Sam's eyes locked on Dean's, unwavering, as if he was underwater and Dean was his only source of air. He swallowed as the pooling blood in the back of his throat threatened to choke him and his neck arched up as the copper tasting fluid attempted to pass through his swollen esophagus. Pain radiated outward causing Sam's eyes to squeeze shut.

"De…" Sam wheezed as his palm sluggishly reached out begging for contact with his older brother. His hand brushed against Dean's chest. A sudden wave of pain caused him to gasp and his fingers curled around the fabric of his brother's shirt to hold on, desperate to manage the pain.

"Sam, what is it?" Dean begged worriedly.

Sam's mouth suddenly dropped open and he struggled to fill his lungs with air. His breaths became raspy, shallow and strained. He felt as if he were drowning as blood covered pockets where air needed to be in his damaged lungs. He tried to cough, to clear it, but he lacked the strength to force it up and out through his swollen throat.

"Dea…" Sam called again trying to tell his brother he couldn't breathe. His brother's name caught in his throat.

"Shhh,….don't speak, Sammy." Dean cooed.

Sam began to gasp.

Dean placed his hand firmly over Sam's fist trying to give his brother comfort and strength,

"Breathe, Sam, just breath. In and out, with me. Breathe."

Upon hearing his brother's coaching, Sam released his hold on his sibling's shirt and turned his hand outward. Dean slid his hand into his brother's and gripped it firmly willing his strength to pass from himself to his distressed sibling. As soon as he did, Sam's body found the strength it needed and he began to cough, to clear his lungs. His face screwed up in pure agony, Dean's right along with him, as the coughs forced his broken ribs out and in. Dean's hands ghosted over Sam's anguished body desperately seeking a way to relieve his little brother of the pain he was suffering. They finally found rest on his shoulders as he determined the best way to help his brother was to steady him so he wouldn't damage anything further. Eventually, he was able to cough up the blood which was interfering with his breathing. Blood spattered out of his mouth and fell back on his already bloodied face, and his breathing, though still raspy and wet sounding, seemed to calm.

"god," Dean whispered defeatedly as he gently stroked Sam's skin trying to wipe away the blood from his little brother's mouth. There was so much blood, his attempt was futile. In all their years of hunting together, Dean had never seen Sam's body so broken.

Overwhelmed with worry and grief, he glanced up at Ellen and they shared an anguished look. Sam needed to be in a hospital, not on a bar room floor. There was little Ellen and Dean could do but try to keep him alive and comfortable. Dean looked back at Sam as his brother's eyes began to close.

"No, Sammy, open your eyes, kiddo. C'mon…. please….." Dean's voice hitched overwhelmed with despair. His mouth opened to speak again, but no sound came out, only a soft sob.

Ellen, recognizing Dean's emotional collapse, chimed in.

"Sam, honey. You need to stay awake with us, come on now. You can do it. Open your eyes. Sam? Open your eyes, baby." Ellen directed gently as she moved up to his head.

Sam's eyelids flinched at the sound of Ellen's voice and they slowly opened. His gaze was glassy and unresponsive.

Dean, having seen his little brother's reopened eyes, regained his composure. Having seen the blood spray from his baby brother's mouth, Dean knew Sam was suffering from internal injuries. He needed to know the extent so he began to unbutton Sam's shirt. He ripped his t-shirt from top to bottom, being careful not to jostle him unnecessarily, trying to get a better look at what they were dealing with.

"Damn," Dean swore as he took in his brother's damaged chest. One side sunk in where his ribs had been broken and pushed in. Large bruises were forming all around the area. Dean frowned as he recognized the bruising was indicative of internal injuries. Sam's chest sunk with shallow wheezing breaths that were frustrated by the swelling occurring around his neck. He could see the muscles straining to compensate, to pull in the much needed oxygen, but the wheezing indicated they were barely being effective.

"Where the hell is that ambulance?" Dean questioned worriedly looking up at Ellen.

Ellen glanced into his horrified face. "Joanna Beth," she called "…how far out are they?"

"How long till they get here" Jo questioned into the phone. "We need help now!"

Jo nodded and turned to answer her mother.

"Twenty minutes according to the dispatcher," Jo called back. Once again, Ellen and Dean shared a worried look. Twenty minutes was too long and they both knew it.

Sam began shaking as his body began to succumb to the shock it had been so cruelly forced to endure. Ripples of pain seemed to work their way up and down his tortured frame in sync with the trembling.

"Easy, Sammy," Dean cooed softly as he began taking off his t- shirt to cover his shivering sibling.

Ellen placed her arm gently on his, stopping him from removing it. She nodded towards the back room.

"Jo, Sweetie, go grab some blankets from the back room, will ya?" Ellen called out. "Hurry."

Jo nodded and scurried away.

Sam's body began shaking again, this time more violently. Dean rubbed Sam's arms attempting to offer his brother some warmth. Sam opened his eyes when he felt his brother's touch.

"Dea…gggod," Sam shivered out as his bloodied hand once again weakly reached out for contact with his brother. His hand bumped against Dean's arm as he attempted to care for his brother. The cold was becoming unbearable and causing tremendous pain as the shivers rippled over his broken body. Sam coughed again and more blood spewed.

Dean quickly clasped his brother's searching hand in his own and wrapped his fingers gently around it trying to offer his brother a clear indication that he was there…to help. His fingers slid across his brother's blood soaked hand. "Shhh, Sammy, we're getting some blankets to warm you up, okay? Hold on, kiddo. Just hold on." Dean gently tried to wipe away the blood from his Sam's mouth once again.

Jo returned only moments later with three large navy blankets. She watched nervously as she waited on line with the emergency dispatcher.

Dean grabbed them quickly and began to cover Sam. He feared the extra weight on his brother's chest might cause his fragile sibling additional breathing difficulties, but the trembling was certainly not helping.

Ellen assisted as best she could, tucking in the edges just under Sam's frame without lifting him or moving him. She attempted to rub his arm to add extra warmth.

Still, he continued to shiver. His eyes closed tight from the pain.

Dean swallowed hard and his forehead wrinkled in sympathy. He attempted to readjust the balled shirt over Sam's shoulder to make it more affective, but when he looked down, the fabric was soaked and could offer no additional help in blotting up the blood. Instead it served only as a tool to apply the much needed pressure to keep Sam from bleeding out.

Growing worried by the amount of blood still escaping the wound, Dean decided to risk removing the pressure momentarily and search for a bleeder. He might need to reach inside the wound itself to try to pinch off the hemorrhaging vessel if he could find it. He'd seen his dad do it once, on Caleb, when the hunter had taken an injury to his leg that punctured his femoral artery. He'd saved the family friend's life and gotten lots of favors in return much to Caleb's distress. Dean knew it was a dangerous thing to do, because it could cause more damage than good, but if he didn't try, he feared his brother would most likely bleed out before the ambulance even arrived and he'd never forgive himself for not trying if that happened.

"Sammy," Dean whispered gently leaning over his brother to make eye contact. "I need to take a look at this, alright.?" His eyes glanced down towards Sam's shoulder and back to his little brother's face._ "_I'll try to be as gentle as I can, I promise."

Sam made no attempt to answer. Instead he just lay with his eyes fixed on Dean clinging to the hope that somehow his brother could fix all of this.

Dean looked deep into his brother's suffering eyes, placed his hand gently on the side of Sam's face and nodded with understanding, and then pulled back the blood soaked ball of fabric to expose the bullet wound. A bloody handprint where Dean had held his brother's face remained. Blood pooled in and around the area and it was difficult for Dean to see much. The only way for him to locate the hole was to probe with his fingers.

"Sammy, I need to check it out. You ready?" he questioned. When no answer came, he looked back to see his brother had closed his eyes again and he began to gently prod the wound to search for a bleeder.

Sam opened his eyes and moaned.

"Easy, honey," Ellen comforted. "Try not to move. Just breathe in and out through the pain if ya can. Help's on the way," Ellen encouraged. Her heart sank as she saw tears make their way out of his eyes and drop across his temples onto the hard wooden floor.

"Don't cry, baby. I know it hurts. You're gonna be okay. You hang in there, sweetie." Ellen cooed.

Dean glanced up at Sam when he heard Ellen mention that his little brother was crying. He leaned up over his sibling so he was visible to Sam and brushed his tears away. "Sammy, hold on, man. You're gonna be okay. Its alright. You just gotta hold on for me, okay? Sammy?"

Sam's tearing eyes blinked and lost their focus. "De…" he tried to whisper as he exhaled.

"Shhhh, don't talk, Little Brother. Save your strength."

Tears fell once again from Sam's glassy eyes. Dean's welled up and Ellen's staunch exterior began to crumble.

Dean returned to Sam's shoulder. Even after probing, it was impossible to tell exactly what was causing the loss of so much blood. The bullet must have hit an atery, but apart form continued pressure, there was little more Dean could do. Dean's hands began shaking as the reality of the situation hit him full for force. Sam was bleeding out and in and he wasn't sure how much longer his brother could hold on.

Ellen saw him falter and took the shirt gently from him and continued the pressure. Recognizing Dean was shell shocked and in need of direction so as not to completely fall apart, she spoke.

"We should check his leg, don't you think," she offered gently. "Dean?"

Dean stirred to awareness upon the mention of his name.

"His leg, honey. We should check his leg."

Dean sniffled, nodded and moved down towards Sam's leg. The bleeding appeared to have stopped. He knew he should loosen the tourniquet, to let the blood flow into the limb to keep it alive, but he feared any loss of blood pressure to his vital areas might be too much and decided to leave it on.

Sam turned his head when Dean touched his leg and his eyes squeezed in pain. He opened them and looked for Dean.

"Hey, sweetie," Ellen cooed as she brushed Sam's bangs out of his eyes and attempted to get a response out of him. "Dean," she called recognizing Sam's search for his brother. "He's looking for you."

Dean moved back up and came into Sam's eye sight. Knowing there was little more he could do for his little brother, he laid himself next to Sam, placing his arm under his head, his hand on his forehead, and pulled him close. His brother looked at him and then his eyes went vacant.

"Sammy?" he begged jostling his little brother's head to get him back. "Don't leave me... please... not like this."

Sam lay still and unresponsive and then his eyes slowly closed. His head dropped to the side.

"Sam?" Dean called out as his brother's head slumped down. Dean gently pulled it back and looked down at his brother's unconscious face. "Sammy? Please?"

Dean placed his shaking hand palm open on his little brother's chest as his brother's breathing began to slow.

Sam's chest, no longer having the strength to pull in the much needed air through his swollen, closing airway slowly began ceasing to rise. Each breath was shallower, each rise became less and less noticeable. What little motion that could be detected was clearly ineffective to provide him with the life sustaining oxygen he so desperately needed and his lips began to blue.

Dean laid his forehead against his brothers. "No," he whispered. Silent tears blazed clean trails through his brother's blood soaked cheeks.

Ellen brushed back her own tears, reached over and placed her hand gently on Dean's shoulder trying to offer him some comfort, but she knew in her heart there would be no comforting him.

" Sammy, please…" Dean sobbed as he leaned back and looked at his brother's bluing lips. He looked helplessly over at Ellen and placed his hand over Sam's. "Don't leave me, little brother."

Jo heard Dean's plea as she made her way over to them holding more blankets in her left hand and the phone in her right. She froze when she saw Dean's body next to Sam's blood soaked frame which was slowly bluing and her eyes began to tear.

"Jo, honey, go outside and watch for the ambulance" Ellen directed protectively as she wiped her tears again.

"Mom?" she questioned.

" Jo. Just go."

Jo hesitatingly stepped over Jake and Jed's dead bodies and headed out the door.

Dean looked up at Ellen, not really expecting an explanation, but understanding her request of Jo. Ellen didn't expect Sam to make it and she didn't want Jo to watch him die.

Ellen looked back at Dean. Her eyes begged for him to understand. She had spent her whole life trying to protect Jo from this, all of this. Watching Sam die was something she just didn't think Jo could or ever should have to handle.

"He's gonna be okay," Dean whispered as he brushed Sam's bangs from his face. "He's not gonna die. He can't." He laid his hand on Sam's head and gently stroked his forehead with his thumb.

Ellen nodded compassionately. She really wanted to believe him.

The sounds of emergency vehicles filled the quiet of the room as they approached and Jo ran back in.

"They're here."

Tbc

Tissues, anyone? Don't be shy, please review or reply! Rachelly

Oh, and sorry about the cliffy...a girl's gotta sleep sometime! I made this one extra long so I'm sure you were ready for a break anyways!


	5. A Brother's Greatest Fear

_Disclaimer: I know little of the medical world, nor emergency procedures. This is fiction, and I took some liberties. Hopefully, it will seem real enough!_

_Apologies: In order to add the details that I wanted, it may appear that the medical team is working too slowly to save Sam's life. In real life, all of this would have taken place very quickly for someone who was so close to death...but you know me and angst._

**Previously on Supernatural**

Sam's dying. Dean's devastated. (What else can I say?)

Read and enjoy Rachelly

**Chapter 5**

Police and Emergency Medical Technicians poured into the small roadhouse in a flurry of activity. One by one the professionals paused, shocked and sickened by the sight before them…bodies, lots of them, littering the bar room floor. It looked like a battlefield after an intense and unforgiving war, offering the observers only a glimpse of the horror that had taken place in the few short hours of the devastating conflict. The hardwood was awash with blood, pooled and smeared, as if it had been used as a slaughter house for days on end. The smell of copper hung heavily in the air.

Two teams of paramedics began checking on the fallen men looking for signs of life. Within moments, it was determined that all were dead but two, a 'robber' who appeared to have a head injury and a 'victim' who looked like he would be the next casualty of war. One of the medical teams assessed the first unconscious man, determined him to be stable, and began to prepare him for transport. The second man, was not as fortunate.

Loaded down with cases of medical equipment and supplies, the second emergency team, made up of a tall, well built, dark haired man in his early thirties and a slender, younger brunette, in her late twenties went to assess the less fortunate 'victim'. The two appeared to be so young that one might wonder if they were capable and experienced enough to help the man who lay so close to death. Based on their reactions, it was obvious they were overwhelmed by the scene before their eyes.

Sam, their patient, lay face up, unconscious on the hardwood floor. His body, from head to toe, was so covered in blood it looked as if he had bathed in it. His face was unrecognizable. Swollen split lips, bruised cheeks and forehead, a broken nose and lacerations hid his normally attractive features. Several navy blankets, darkened by blood, covered him hoping to stay off the bone chilling freeze that shock usually imposes.

The youngest medic gently removed the fabric and laid it aside to enable her and her partner to assess the man that lay beneath it.

Their patient's chest, exposed because his shirt lay bloodied and off to the side, had indentations and excessive bruising all around them, indicative of broken bones and internal injuries. A balled clump of fabric saturated with blood was firmly pressed against what the paramedics could only assume was a life threatening injury, the nature of which had yet to be determined. A bloodied leg lay belted to stem the escape of liquid life. The man's casted arm lay neatly tucked beside his broken frame, his other arm was held gently, tenderly in the hand of a bruised and injured man who lay next to him cradling his damaged head. The position of the caring man, who was whispering words too soft to hear, indicated that the gravely wounded man was cherished and dearly loved. Both paramedics were moved and approached with great respect.

oooOOOooo

Meanwhile, officials clumped in small groups whispering as areas were taped off, pictures were taken, and questions were being posed.

Ellen and Jo talked with the police answering endless questions about what had happened which allowed Dean to remain close with Sam as the paramedics worked desperately to stabilize him for transport. They painted a picture of a robbery that had gone wrong and gave details of what they had "witnessed" and the individuals that were involved. Ellen had known all the hunters except for Bo and was able to give names for the police to investigate further. She glanced over to Jo who was talking to a sheriff's deputy to see how she was handling things, and though she was clearly shaken by what had happened, she was bravely holding her own, eager to protect Sam and Dean's involvement and Dean's identity.

"….innocent customers here at the wrong place at the wrong time," Jo answered the deputy protectively. Her voice wafted above the noise in the roadhouse and Ellen nodded. She felt responsible in a way that the boys had been there, in the wrong place at the wrong time, beckoned by the phone call she had been forced to make. She glanced over to Dean as he interacted with the paramedics, knowing how Dean was doing would be how Sam was doing. His worried face told her all she needed to know and she excused herself from the questioning officer and returned to his side.

oooOOOooo

"I'm John, this is my partner Beth," the dark haired paramedic announced to the bloodied man, who looked anxiously up. He and his brown haired partner dropped their silver cases full of medical supplies and instruments around the gravely wounded man who lay before them.

"D-Dean," the eldest Winchester's voice cracked out as he remained steadfast at Sam's side. His hand remained firmly wrapped around his little brother's, his arm securing his sibling's damaged head.

The medical cases the EMTs had brought with them began a snapping overture as they made their protected materials available. The paramedics quickly began assessing Sam; their goal, to stabilize him as soon a possible for transport.

"I need oxygen," the paramedic called out taking into account his patient's bluing color.

Beth acknowledged as John flashed a penlight in Sam's lifted eyelids. "Pupils are unequal but responsive to light," John called out to his partner as he began to glide his fingers over Sam's skull checking for head injuries.

Dean nodded knowing that his brother was concussed.

Beth passed an oxygen tank and tubing to John, who quickly positioned it over Sam's head and below his nose and turned it on. A hiss, barely audible indicated Sam was being offered air, which he desperately needed.

"Why don't you let my partner take a look at you while I work here," John suggested, taking in Dean's bloody face and wounded arm and needing more room to work. The paramedic continued ghosting his hands along Sam's body, fingers evaluating as they went.

"No, I'm good. But you gotta help him. He can't breathe," Dean pleaded as he looked down into his brother's bluing face.

John nodded knowingly. "We're gonna do that, Dean. Can I get ya to back up a bit,?" John suggested gently wanting to have full range of motion over his patient.

Dean looked intensely at John. He was not about to move away from his brother. Sam needed him and nothing would make him move.

John took in Dean's glare, sensing that he had just asked Dean to cut off his right arm.

"It'll give me more room to work," he added kindly hoping the explanation would be enough to motivate the protective man.

As soon as Dean realized he was in the way of helping Sam, he pulled his arm out from under his brother's head, laid it gently back to the floor, and sat next to him still holding his hand close to his heart. He looked back at John to let him know that was all the room the paramedic was going to get because he wasn't letting go of his little brother, not now, not ever.

John nodded with understanding and he completed the initial scan of his patient's body while his partner was on the radio establishing a link to the local hospital.

"What's your buddy's name?" John questioned gently as his eyes flitted about, checking the color of Sam's lips and skin to see if his patient was receiving the oxygen he'd been given.

"Brother," Dean corrected, somehow feeling distanced by the paramedic's reference to Sam as being just a buddy. He was way more than his buddy. Sammy was his little brother, his best friend, his life.

John looked up briefly with sympathy in his eyes, paused and nodded, acknowledging the emotional pain he knew Dean must be feeling. Then turned back to his partner and announced, "He's cyanotic."

Beth nodded, reported the information, and reached for a case off to her left.

Dean's eyes followed her for a moment as he tried to figure out how bad cyanotic was and then returned to the paramedic before him.

John checked Sam's swollen neck trying to determine if his suffocating patient's airway was obstructed and to assess if intubation would be possible and necessary. Neither the trachea nor the esophagus appeared to be crushed, though severely bruised and swollen…enough to restrict his airway. Based on the amount of swelling and Sam's strained breath sounds, John determined the airway needed to be expanded.

"He was kneed in the throat," Dean offered sadly, almost apologetically as he blamed himself for his little brother's condition.

The paramedic acknowledged Dean with a nod and called out to his partner. "We've got a restricted airway. Request permission for tracheal intubation."

Dean shifted nervously and glanced worriedly down at Sam. His brother's eyes were still closed, his chest hardly rising, and his skin was getting bluer. He gently stroked the back of his brother's hand with his thumb while continuing the pressure on his brother's bleeding shoulder. He looked back at John waiting for an indication that the EMT could help his little brother and that Sam was going to be alright.

John noticed the seeking look but had no answer for the anxious brother yet. He placed the ear pieces of his stethoscope into his ears and began listening intently to Sam's damaged chest.

"What's your brother's name, Dean?" he questioned, specifically using Dean's name, trying to keep the anxious brother level and able to provide information as needed to help.

He turned to his partner, "Decreased breath sounds on the right……"

"Sammy ….. Sam" Dean corrected himself clearing his throat.

"Sam?" John questioned the injured man loudly as he began quickly assessing Sam's ability to be aroused. "Sam, can you hear me?"

Dean glanced down willing Sam to stir and open his eyes. "Sammy?" he echoed hoping the sound of his familiar voice might earn a response from his unconscious little brother.

Sadly, Sam's suffocating body could do neither.

John leaned down and listened to the left side of Sam's chest. "Decreased breath sounds on the left, signs of fluid and heavy congestion. Also, wheezing."

Beth nodded and then relayed the information to dispatch and waited for permission to intubate.

John gathered several packaged supplies from various cases and laid them beside Sam.

"We're clear for the tracheal intubation, respiratory if necessary," Beth finally called back.

John nodded and Dean detected his relief.

"Sam? Sam, can you hear me? Sam?" John beckoned again, checking Sam's awareness to prevent any complications should he insert the tube and Sam be aware enough to fight him.

Dean studied his brother's face. Sam didn't blink or even flinch, he just remained still, too still.

Satisfied his patient would be compliant, John called to Beth and she joined him to assist with the process.

Dean gripped Sam's hand tightly as if to fortify his brother with strength and watched as if in slow motion as the packages were ripped open and the contents removed, one of which was a fairly large sterile tube. His brother's head was gently tilted back and up, the bloody strands of his long hair remained stuck and unmoving as the plastic tracheal tube was pushed farther and farther in. Sam didn't even struggle or give any indication that anything was happening. Just watching, sickened Dean. His eyes welled up with tears once again and he had to look away.

Finding the lost eye contact with his brother more unbearable than watching his sibling having a tube stuffed down his throat, he turned back to find John listening intently to Sam's chest once again. Dean focused on Sam's lips and skin and sighed in relief as the grayish tint of his brother's skin and the bluish tint of his lips seemed to change. Sam's coloring wasn't normal by any means, but was definitely improving.

"Is he good?" Dean questioned as John finished his careful exam of Sam's lungs, eager to hear if the paramedic felt Sam was getting enough air to hold on.

John didn't answer, but offered an understanding smile. While Sam's airway was no longer compromised, Sam's breathing still was. John knew the trachea was only part of the problem. He glanced up at his partner and subtly shook his head. She acknowledged his concerns.

Dean stiffened and looked worriedly at his brother's damaged face carefully studying his lips for any signs of change.

Dean slid back releasing his brother's hand while maintaining pressure on his bleeding shoulder as Beth moved in and put a blood pressure cuff around Sam's arm. The soft pft pft pft pft followed by the slow hiss revealed important information that would indicate how Sam was doing.

Dean looked up at Beth's face to gage her reaction.

"BPs 75 over 30. He's bottoming out," she announced scrambling to another silver box.

She opened the packages and John inserted two IV ports in Sam's un-casted arm. They attached the desperately needed fluids to raise the youngest Winchester's blood pressure.

Dean returned to his brother's side, once again clasping his hand and curling his fingers around his brother's lax and almost too cold hand. Beth returned to her radio and updated, and John returned to the daunting task of trying to save Sam's life.

oooOOOooo

The coldness of Sam's hand troubled Dean and he turned to check his brother's color. "Hey, something's wrong. His lips are turning blue again." Dean called out sitting up anxiously on his knees.

John nodded, having already become aware. "Increased cyanosis," John urgently called out as he began listening intently to both sides of Sam's chest.

"I've got decreased breath sounds, wheezing, and congestion on the right," John paused straining to listen. Then he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up. "Nothing on the left! Are we clear for respiratory assist?"

"Yes"

"Let's do it!"John hollered out commandingly.

Dean shifted nervously and gently reached for Sam's hand feeling like Sammy would have wanted him to if he had been aware of what was happening. The bluing color to his brother's lips was unnerving and he watched if fear as the gray hue reappeared on his brother's skin.

In a flurry of activity, Beth scurried over with a large case and began unloading its contents. Both began ripping packages open and connecting tubes. John attached one tube to the end of the tracheal tube protruding from Sam's mouth while Beth hooked the other end up to a device that began mechanically filling his sibling's damaged lungs with air. It hissed and clicked and then hissed again and Sam's chest began to rise and fall in a systematic and almost unsettling way. A monitor began flashing numbers relaying vital information which both John and Beth watched intently.

Dean watched anxiously as John began listening to Sam's chest, studying the man intently to determine if the procedure was offering his little brother the assistance he needed. When he got no indication from John, he looked to Beth who continued watching the monitor and regulating the flow of oxygen based on its readings. Periodically, she adjusted one of the dials on the left.

"What do you have, John?" Beth questioned watching the flashing numbers.

"Increased breath sounds on the right _and_ left." John announced enthusiastically. "Congestion and wheezing on the right….. Fluid, congestion, and excessive wheezing on the left, but definite breathing on the left now!" John lingered on the left side for a bit.

Dean nodded, pleased that for the moment his little brother had regained his ability to breath and waited intently for his brother's lips to regain some of their color. He looked down into his brother's face and couldn't help but whisper, "Atta boy, Sammy."

"Is he gonna be okay, now?" Dean questioned hopeful that finally the paramedic would be able to give him a definite answer.

"We're doing everything we can, Dean."

Having Sam's breathing issues temporarily stabilized, John's attention turned to his fluid levels and other areas of injury. His first focus was Sam's shoulder, which continued to bleed profusely.

"I need to know about his other injuries, any trauma you think he may have suffered, anything you can tell me that might be helpful? He'll need to be stabilized before we attempt to move him and I don't want any surprises while we're on route."

Trauma….the word stuck in the back of Dean's throat and he couldn't find the words to respond.

"Dean…. injuries suffered?" John questioned as he tried to pull Dean's hand, still clamped down on Sam's shoulder, back. Dean held firm worried that if he let go, his brother's entire life might spill out on the floor before him.

"Ah…." Dean paused unsure of where to begin. Sam had been horribly abused. He had injuries everywhere.

Ellen chimed in when Dean did not respond. "He was severely beaten in the head and chest, and he was shot, twice, once in the shoulder and once in the leg."

Dean nodded gratefully to Ellen. She nodded back with an understanding smile.

"Let me take a look," he requested gently, nodding that it would be okay for Dean to release his pressure.

"He's lost a lot of blood and I haven't been able to slow the bleeding," he explained fearfully as he hesitantly complied.

As John began probing Sam's shoulder, Dean winced remembering how painful that had been for his little brother only minutes earlier when he had tried to examine the wound.

"Do you know if the bullet is still inside or if there's an exit wound?"

"Inside," Dean answered knowing that infection would soon be an issue.

John turned to one of the metal cases, opened a bottle of what appeared to be a clear liquid and began pouring it into Sam's open wound. The liquid fizzed.

Dean looked up to Sam's face expecting to see him wincing, but he remained still, his face unchanging. Sam's unresponsiveness was painful to see. Dean didn't want his brother suffer, but he needed some sign that his brother was there, somewhere, still fighting for his life.

John checked Sam's shoulder wound again and to Dean's surprise, the bleeding had slowed. Whatever the paramedic had used to temporarily clot or seal the wound had worked.

"I need a blood pressure read," John called out to his partner.

Dean moved back to allow room for Beth. He felt the lost contact with Sam once again unbearable and waited anxiously for the results and the opportunity to move back in place where he wanted, no needed to be.

Beth rechecked Sam's blood pressure. "BP's 80 over 40," Beth reported removing the cuff from Sam's arm. Dean slid back into position at Sam's side, once again hand in hand with his little brother maintaining the link he so desperately needed.

John nodded seemingly pleased there had been some improvement.

Next, John cut Sam's pant leg observing the grayish tinge to Sam's tourniquet-ed leg. He glanced at the gunshot wound momentarily. Dean watched his face for some kind of reaction. John offered none. He just simply recovered Sam's leg with his jeans and returned his gaze to the monitor. Dean feared that John was either not concerned about Sam's leg or there was nothing the paramedic could do about it.

John studied the respiratory monitor and then turned back to his patient.. "Sam….Sam, can you hear me?" He had hoped that Sam might be stirring by now.

"How long ago did he lose consciousness?" John questioned, checking Sam's pupils again to see if there had been any change. He was trying to determine if it was the head injury, blood loss and decreased blood pressure, lack of oxygen from a swollen trachea or esophagus or all three combined that were causing the young man's unconsciousness. He suspected all three were involved.

Dean answered this time. "Several times on and off after being…beaten…in the beginning." Beaten...the word sounded so unbelievable. How could anybody want to beat Sammy. It was so insane.

Jake nodded. "Pupils are both unequal and unresponsive now." John reported disappointedly to his partner. Sam's eyes were no longer responding to light.

Dean, disappointed, continued, hoping the additional information would be helpful.

"Then he was conscious in and out again when he was shot. He's been out for at least the last twenty minutes or more since just before you arrived."

The monitor which had been indicating the effectiveness of Sam's respiratory assist suddenly began to beep. John glanced down at Sam's chest and his eyebrows furrowed. It was no longer rising as it should be.

"What about his ribs? Did he ever cough up blood?" he questioned urgently.

"Yes" Dean answered worriedly searching John's eyes for some indication of the conclusions he was drawing. "Punctured lung?"

Beth looked over at John. He looked up at Dean, hesitated, but then nodded. "Possibly"

John glanced down at Sam's chest again and as he feared, his abdomen seemed to be bloating. He quickly leaned over and listened to Sam's lungs again.

"Sounds of fluid, congestion, severe wheezing on the right side now." He then switched to listen to the other side. "… and I'm not hearing anything on the left!" he announced urgently to his partner who relayed the information back to the hospital they were in contact with. "I'm haulting mechanical respiration," he urgently reported as he began frantically removing the monitor and pump from Sam's tube.

"Wait! What are you doing? He can't breathe without help!" Dean questioned anxiously grasping John's hand to stop him.

"Your brother's lungs are perforated … punctured. The machine is pumping air into his abdominal cavity. If it continues, the air will put pressure on his heart and other internal organs and kill him."

Dean's face contorted in horror. He visibly began to shake. "No" he whispered and shook his head. His eyes began to sting, threatening tears and he looked back to his brother's face and began willing him to survive.

John left the tracheal tube in tact to provide a way for air to be drawn in by Sam's barely functioning lung on his right side since his trachea still was impaired by the swelling. It wasn't much, but Sam's chest was attempting to compensate. It sunk in as his muscles strained to draw in a breath.

"They're asking how long until he's stabilized and ready for transport?" Beth questioned.

The paramedic continued hovering over Sam's chest, listening intently as he switched from side to side.

"John? Hospital wants to know how…"

John shook his head and began losing his professionalism. "Damn it, we're losing the right side! C'mon kid, don't do this." He looked over at his partner. "We've got to move him. Now!" the paramedic hollered.

Everything happened in slow motion as Dean took in the flurry of activity. He heard the snapping of metal boxes as they closed and the holler of instructions as his brother was rushed onto a backboard, hauled upward and set abruptly on a stretcher which was quickly wheeled out the door, through the lot to the ambulance. Suddenly he found himself loaded in along side his little brother having never left his side and the grip on his hand.

Sirens blared, rocks skidded beneath revved tires and they were on their way.

Dean watched in fear as Sam's suffocating body began to blue once again and his skin took on a grayish blue color. John struggled to keep Sam's breathing productive while Dean remained steadfast beside his brother offering words of encouragement to try to keep Sam near the surface of the ocean of unconsciousness that he was drowning in. He whispered in his little brother's ear. "Hang on, Sammy. Just hang on."

oooOOOOooo

Ellen and Jo stayed behind. There were still a lot of questions to be answered. Ellen continued to paint her portrait of a robbery gone wrong, though the existence and death of ten robbers was a bit hard for all to swallow. Still, her story seemed to fit and hours later she and Jo were left to clean up the mess and wait for news from Dean.

"You think Sam made it to the hospital?" Jo asked worriedly.

"Don't know, Jo, honey."

"It was all so wrong. Jake, Jed, Tom, shit all of them, Mom. What were they thinking wanting to kill Sam?"

"That's just it. They weren't. Livin by fear is livin without thinking. They didn't take the time to know Sam. They just feared him for what he is."

"Do you think Sam's gonna turn evil, you know, and help the demon…..the demon having plans and all?"

Ellen shot a corrective look over at Ellen.

"It's just plans, Joanna Beth, and you know plans don't always work out. And if I know Dean, he would never let that happen. God that poor boy! Is he loses his brother, after losing his dad, I just think he'll shatter and the pieces will be too scattered to glue."

ooOOOOOooo

Moments from the hospital, the ambulance became alive with flashing lights and alarms. Dean watched in slow motion as John hollered to the driver to pick up speed. Sam was flat lining. Dean was forced back out of the way by the flurry of activity. Beth and John attempted to perform CPR and pump Sam's oxygen starved lungs with mechanically produced air all within the confines of the ambulance. Dean knew that CPR, performed on broken ribs, plus the air, being forced into his little brother's damaged lungs, could just as much kill his little brother as save him and panick welled up from deep inside that threatened to stop his heart and lungs as well. Dean watched helplessly as the paramedics worked furiously to try to keep his little brother alive until they reached the hospital.

oooOOOOoo

By the time the ambulance arrived, Sam's heart had not beaten for almost 4 minutes. The ambulance stopped abruptly, its doors flung open, and Sam was whisked away. Dean followed numbly as Sam was rolled through the hospital corridors and into triage. He found himself left to wait….and wait…and wait.

People stared at the beaten, blood soaked man who stood, broken in the waiting room not knowing if they should offer help or be afraid of him.

Several nurses tried to offer him assistance, to give him treatment for his wounds, but he refused, fearful that he might not be available if Sammy needed him. He stood unmoving, waiting for any word on his little brother.

oooOOOooo

When the news finally came, it was devastating. Broken bones, perforated and collapsed lungs, internal injuries, concussion, swelling of the brain, lack of blood to his limb, tissue damage, oxygen deprived …..brain dead.

Dean's stomach sickened and he felt his legs give way beneath him.

Tbc


	6. Lost

Faye, for you and all the virtual chocolate you promised me…I give you….the angsty hospital scene….hope you like it!

For all my wonderful readers and reviewers….. No Death fic! I promise to fix them…eventually…..Hope you like the hospital angst, too!

**Previously on Supernatural**

By the time the ambulance arrived, Sam's heart had not beaten for almost 4 minutes. The ambulance stopped abruptly, its doors flung open, and Sam was whisked away. Dean followed numbly as Sam was rolled through the hospital corridors and into triage. He found himself left in a waiting room to wait….and wait…and wait.

When the news finally came, it was devastating. Broken bones, perforated and collapsed lungs, internal injuries, concussion, swelling of the brain, lack of blood to his limb, tissue damage, oxygen deprived …..brain dead.

Dean's stomach sickened and he felt his legs give way beneath him.

**Chapter 6**

Dean became aware of the sound of voices mumbling on and on, interrupting the peaceful quiet of his blissful sleep. One of the voices wasn't familiar; the other was a voice of a close family friend that Dean could easily identify even in his subconscious state.

_Bobby?_ _What the heck was Bobby doing there? ……and why the hell am I laying down in an uncomfortable position in an uncomfortable bed ……and what the heck is that annoying beeping sound…….. and what is freakin wrong with my eyelids that they won't open?_

As the fog of medication slowly began to lift, specific words began to become recognizable, and Dean listened.

"Surgery went well……removed the bullet….bone…some tissue damage...cracked ribs….broken….nose…could have been worse."

_How? Dean wondered as his still foggy mind listened, feeling sorry for the poor bastard that had gotten so messed up. Still, his eyelids remained unmovable and he listened on._

"What about Sam?"

'_Sam? Did Bobby just say Sam…what about Sam?' Dean wondered as he lay somewhere between consciousness and oblivion._

"Apart from his other injuries which we've already discussed, there are still no signs of brain activity."

_What the f?... Sam? …Injuries? ….No brain activity? Dean's heart began racing, his mind screaming. He needed to wake up and tell them they were wrong. Sammy wasn't injured and his brain was just fine. He and Sam were on their way to Ellen's and….. Oh, god…the roadhouse…the hunters…the shots... blood….brain dead….no…Sammy!._

"Life support is keeping him going, but…" The doctor paused, his hesitation bristled the hairs on the back of Bobby's neck and shattered any nerves Dean had left.

"but what?" Bobby questioned softly.

"Well, if we see no change within the next twenty four to forty eight hours, we may need to make some decisions.

_Decisions! Fuck decisions, no body's making decisions about my brother! Dean struggled frantically trying to open his eyes or get his mouth to work. His body would not comply_._  
_  
"To hell with that!" Bobby growled. "No decisions are being made."

_Damn straight!_

"You said yourself that there have been cases where patients, officially brain dead, have fully recovered! "

"That's true, but rare. In each case the patient was resuscitated within the first ten minutes. You have to be realistic here. Sam was without oxygen for at least ten minutes, most likely more. His chances for a full recovery are unlikely and decrease with every hour."

"Yeah, well, that boy lives in a world where unlikely is an everyday occurrence. You get his brother awake and in there with him, and you can be damn sure you'll see some brain activity in the kid."

"mmmo" Dean mumbled finally finding the ability to move his lips.

The doctor and Bobby turned to look at Dean.

"Dean?"

"mmmo me ssm"

Bobby moved to Dean's bedside, laying his hand gently on the young man's arm and called his name again. He was pleased to see Dean's eyes moving beneath his lids and even more pleased when he finally opened his eyes.

"Dean" Bobby said with a smile as he gave him a small squeeze on his arm. "How are you feelin'?"

The doctor began checking the monitors, noting the increase in his patient's heartbeat which wasn't justifiable based on having just awakened.

Dean looked up at Bobby with fear and determination in his eyes, periodically interrupted by the slow blink of his eyelids.

"Move mme to Samm," Dean finally managed to get out.

Bobby smiled and nodded. He felt great affection for the boy who was almost like a son to him and he was pleased that Dean woke up fighting….fighting to save his brother.

"Out of the question," the doctor interjected. "You're in no condition to be moved. You've just had surgery! You were shot! You're ribs are cracked. You're body needs time to heal. You need to be in bed."

Dean turned his head, the room along with it, and glared. "Then mmove mmy bed into his roomm."

Bobby smiled once again admiring Dean's determination and looked up at the doctor with a shake of his head indicating that the doctor would have a riot on his hands if he didn't.

The doctor scowled. "It would be difficult…."

Dean continued to glare, riot threatening in his eyes.

"Well, it's not impossible, though I do recommend against it."

"Good, les do it." Dean rattled off sarcastically having been totally irritated at the doctor's conversation about making decisions to end his brother's life. Dean looked back over to Bobby who continued to be smiling, glad he wasn't going to be in Dean's way any time soon. He gave him a look that told Bobby to make sure it happened, and Bobby had every intention to. Then, feeling overwhelmingly tired, Dean relaxed a bit to wait to see his brother. Somewhere in the waiting, he drifted off.

oooOOOooo

"When he wakes up, he's going to need to take it easy. He's been through a lot and his body needs time to heal. The bullet nicked the bone and I don't want him to use the arm until it has time to heal. If he isn't careful, he'll get reinjured or an infection, and then we'll have a real problem. He can get up if he wants to, but only for a few minutes at a time and you'll have to help him, the pain medication will make him unsteady. I can send in someone to help…."

"_Voices! Always with the voices!_

"Whas a guy gotta do to get somme sleep around hhhere?" Dean hollered out upon waking, eyelids shut, not fully cognizant of his situation or the medication that pumped through his veins.

The doctor looked over to Dean, annoyed by the irritability of his new patient.

"Thanks, doctor, but we'll be just fine." Bobby announced eager to get the babbling man to be quiet and leave.

Dean opened his eyes to thank Bobby for his act of mercy! It was then that he sensed him…. Sam. Dean lifted his head off the pillow and turned in his direction. What he saw caused a lump so large in his throat that it threatened to choke him.

"Sammy" Dean whispered as all the memories of what had just recently happened flooded in and mixed with the image that appeared before him.

It looked like something out of X-files. Sam lay on the hospital bed, completely flat, dwarfing it merely by his size, with a snakelike tube coming out of his mouth forcing air in and out. The tube coiled and then connected to a cylinder that hissed and clicked evenly with the rise and fall of Sammy's chest. His eyes were taped shut. Smaller tubes were coming out of his body in every direction, rising to connect to bags filled with fluids that hung just above his damaged head. Wires crisscrossed his frame like a tangle of spider webs practically burying him in shades of gray. Some connected to his fingers, some to his chest, some to his temples along side his head. All led to electrical boxes that beeped and pinged out the wellbeing or not so well being of his baby brother. The sight was overwhelming, and Dean could hardly breathe.

Bobby moved in, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder, and sighed. He knew the sight was painful for Dean and his heart joined Dean's in aching for Sam.

"Jeezus, Bobby," Dean whispered out barely able to speak.

Bobby nodded, but had nothing to say. What could he possibly say that could make Dean feel better? His little brother was brain dead and 'it will be okay' just wasn't appropriate. For Dean, it would never be okay, not now and not ever.

"Get mme up," Dean called to Bobby as he began to rise up from his pillow.

Bobby knew not to argue. He just did what he could to help.

Dean's legs were like cooked spaghetti, limp and unreliable, his mind was still foggy, but somehow, he and Bobby made their way over to Sam's bedside. Bobby helped Dean down into the chair he had placed close enough for Dean to reach Sam if he wanted to.

Dean's sat quietly for a minute trying to gather his strength and bite back the tears that threatened to release as he studied his brother's broken body pausing at Sam's nearly unrecognizable face. After a moment, he reached out his hand, hesitated, fearful that his touch might somehow be painful to his brother, and then placed it gently on Sam's arm.

"God, Sammy" he sighed this time unable to hold back the tears.

Bobby, feeling that the boys deserved a quiet moment together and that Dean needed a moment to release, excused himself and left.

Dean wiped his hand over his tear streaked face trying to clear away the salty water and anguished feelings that were threatening to undo him and sighed.

Sam looked like he was lost, adrift in an ocean, too far from shore and the life it had to offer to reach it on his own.

After a quiet moment, Dean cleared his throat and attempted to throw his baby brother a lifeline, something for Sam to grab hold of… so his big brother could pull him safely back to shore.

"Hey, little brother," Dean softly whispered as he gently stroked his brother's arm with his thumb. "It's me."

"I, uh……………." Dean cleared his throat and tried to swallow his despair. He looked at his little brother's misshapen face and taped eyes. "Jeezus, Sammy….."

His eyes stung again as his heart filled with anguish at seeing his baby brother so young, so destroyed. He swallowed hard, trying to get past his despair.

"I'm s…….Ah, god," he whispered so overcome he had to look away. He looked up to the ceiling, closed his eyes, dropped his head and shook it sadly. After a moment he dared to look back.

"You didn't deserve this," he whispered glancing over his brother's broken frame, "None of this."

"I'm sorry, Sammy….. I couldn't stop it. I tried….. I really did, but…I….uh…. Dean's voice faded as the weight of his guilt crushed the air out of his lungs.

He took a deep breath and set out with determination. "I want you to know. .….I'm not buying this brain dead shit. I don't care what they say. I know you're in there. You have to be………cuz …. I don't think…" he hitched and swallowed, "I don't think I could handle it if you weren't, Sammy." Dean paused as tears once again cascaded down his face.

"I need you to be okay, man." Dean whispered as he bit his lip in anguish. "I need you to be okay."

Dean sat silent once again trying to compose himself as he watched his little brother so lifeless on the bed.

Bobby returned knowing that Dean's strength would be waning and paused in the doorway when he saw the eldest Winchester wipe away his tears. He cleared his throat to announce his arrival, and walked over to Dean.

"Let me help you back into bed." Bobby offered softly.

Dean hesitated, unable to move from his brother's side, unable to let go of his arm for fear that Sam's precarious condition might somehow tip in the wrong direction and his brother might slip away forever if he didn't stay.

"Dean, please," Bobby begged growing concerned for the way Dean was starting to sink down in the chair threatening to collapse. "I'll watch over him while you rest."

Dean nodded sadly and allowed Bobby to assist him to the bed. He laid back slowly, protecting his injured arm and cracked ribs. He suddenly reached out and grabbed Bobby's shirt and fisted it gently, desperately. "Promise me. If he needs me, you'll let me know?"

Bobby nodded, closing his eyes showing the sincerely of his promise.

Dean released his hand from Bobby's shirt and patted it twice, then dropped it lifelessly to the bed beside him as his exhausted body finally gave out. Sleep claimed him shortly after as nightmares of Sam dying played out over and over in the darkened corridors of his mind.

**ooOOOOoo**

"not sure what to say! It's not much, but it's something. I don't want to get your hopes up or his, but it's a damn good sign."

"How long til we know for sure?"

_Voices, voices, voices Dean's mind repeated as he began slowly waking up from his drug induced slumber._ _Always voices_

"Well, we know for sure there's brain activity…"

_Brain activity? Sammy? Thank God!_

" and it appears to be increasing by the hour. What we don't know is whether it will continue, whether he will recover to the point of awareness or be in a vegetative state, and if he does manage to wake up, whether there will be any lasting brain damage."

_Brain damage? What the f?_

"Brain damage?" Bobby's voice barked out in shock.

"Yes, there's a good possibility Sam will be brain damaged due to the lack of oxygen."

_No! Oh, god, no._

"Excuse me doctor, but that's a load of crap. You said Sam was brain dead due to lack of oxygen and he's not. Now you're gonna tell me he'll be brain damaged due to lack of oxygen?"Bobby huffed out angrily feeling like the little bit of hope the doctor had given had just been ripped away.

"I said it was a possibility. I didn't say it was definitely going to happen. You need to be aware…."

"aware my ass. Sam's gonna be just fine and don't you go telling Dean otherwise, not until you know for sure that he's not! You got that?" Bobby spat protectively. "Boy's been through enough already without dashing his hopes again. Right now, he's improving; he's heading in the right direction. Let's leave it at that!"

"As you wish, I just feel responsible to tell you the possibilities so you can be…."

"What? Scared to death? No thank you! I'll stick to the here and now, if you don't mind."

"Fine. It's your choice, but his brother has a right to know!"

"I already do." Dean spoke up finally able to arouse himself out of his drug induced stupor to speak.

Bobby looked apologetically over at Dean. The eldest Winchester nodded to him, appreciating his fatherly protection, and then addressed them both.

"I want to know….." Dean bravely announced, "…everything. If it has to do with my brother, I want to know about it."

Bobby acknowledged Dean and looked down, embarrassed. He should have known. Dean always was one to take things head on. It was the only way the kid could deal. …head on… emotions buried. With Dean's emotions lying on the surface, he had assumed John's boy was not able to handle things head on. It was a mistake he would be careful not to make again. When it came to Sam, Dean's emotions took a back seat if needed in order for him to focus and do what was best for Sam.

"S'okay, Bobby. I appreciate the thought." Dean smiled kindly to his protective friend.

"Dean, there's measurable activity in Sam's brain and it's increasing by the hour." Bobby reported enthusiastically trying to counter the devastating possible outcome the doctor had just doled out.

Dean nodded, having heard the news while waking from his 'sleep'. "And the brain damage?"

Bobby frowned, knowing he had been unsuccessful.

"It's possible Sam could have brain damage," the doctor repeated. "We won't know for sure until he wakes up."

"And when is that?" Dean questioned.

"When his brain activity and level of swelling return to normal," the doctor specified.

"What about his injuries?" Dean asked, the next most worrisome thing on his mind.

The doctor dropped his head. "He's still in critical condition."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning his body is struggling to hold onto life. We haven't been able to stabilize him yet. His internal injuries are extensive. The broken ribs punctured three of the four lobes of his lungs, two of which collapsed and had to be re-inflated."

Dean glanced over to his little brother sadly as the doctor continued his report.

"There were other internal injuries as well and his heart appears to have some damage…"

The doctor paused when Dean turned to look at him in surprise having not expected Sam's heart to be an issue.

"…from blood and oxygen deprivation….when it stopped…. twice." the doctor clarified. "His heart is functioning at 60 at the moment, which is actually not uncommon after a heart attack. The numbers should increase and may even return to normal as the muscle heals and regains its strength. It really depends on how long it was deprived as to whether the damage is temporary or permanent. The health of the muscle to begin with will have a large impact on its recovery."

Dean bit into his lip and began chewing along the side of his cheek.

Bobby's eyes shifted nervously from the doctor to Dean and back again, uncomfortable with the depth of detail the doctor was giving and the affect it was having on Dean.

The doctor detected his anxiety and paused again, not wanting to traumatize his already recovering patient.

Dean looked up and raised his eyebrows indicating he wanted him to go on. The doctor looked over to Bobby, who nodded, and then continued.

"We were able to reposition the broken bones, so in time, they should heal. I don't feel there was any permanent damage to his shoulder. The bullet hit the scapula and shattered part of the bone, but we rewired it and removed the bone fragments. There's tissue damage to his leg. The bullet missed the bone, however, so I expect no complications." He'll need physical therapy for his shoulder as well as for his leg, but he should regain full use of both."

Dean frowned, disgusted by the 'should' in the doctor's analysis. Sam was gonna get his body back, he'd make damn sure of that. He'd done physical therapy with Sam before and the kid came back strong. If Sam recovered to the point of physical therapy, the rest would be a piece of cake. The question remained, could he recover to that point.

"And his head?" Dean asked looking over at his little brother's face.

"…will heal as well. The swelling in his brain tissue is still an issue. We're keeping a close eye on it. We may need to make a hole in his skull plate to relieve the pressure if the swelling increases, though I believe that would be unlikely at this point."

Bobby shot the doctor a glare, annoyed at the "possibility" the doctor had just thrown back into the conversation. He understood Dean wanting to know everything, but was irritated that the doctor would even mention it, since he didn't think increased swelling was even an issue.

The doctor caught Bobby's expression and stopped his rambling.

"Any questions?"

"Will he make it?" Dean asked with a hitch in his voice. "I mean apart from the brain activity issue." He held his breath in fear of the answer that might come.

"It just depends on whether the rest of him can overcome his injuries. He's on life support and that will help for the time being, but we need his heart and other organs to hold out. If they begin to shut down, there will be little we can do."

Dean glanced away as he felt the all too familiar sting of oncoming tears prick the corner of his eyes. He felt like he should say 'thanks', but he just couldn't thank the man for the tale of woe he had just spun. The best he could do is force out a nod of acknowledgement.

"I'll keep you informed if there's any new news," the doctor commented as he checked Sam's monitors. "I'll be back in the morning.

As the doctor left, Bobby looked over to Dean scanning to see if the young man was okay and how he was handling the list that had been painstakingly given.

Dean sighed heavily and wiped his hand across his face.

"He's got brain activity," Bobby felt compelled to offer his despairing friend.

"Yeah," Dean commented still overwhelmed by the conversation that had just taken place.

"And if I know Sam, he's not gonna stop at a little brain activity…he always does things all the way. He sees something he wants, he goes for it! "

Dean nodded hesitatingly trying hard to claim the hope Bobby was offering. He began to lean forward to sit up, feeling an urge to be closer to Sam and talk with him. Even though he was already in the same room with his little brother, his sibling's lifelessness made him seem farther away than ever and he needed to bridge the distance that gapped between their two beds.

"Help me up, will ya?"

Bobby once again helped Dean make his way to Sam. He smiled when Dean scooted the flimsy fold up chair forward until it literally bumped into Sam's bed. Bobby finally settled him down in the chair, positioned so closely to the bed it was difficult for Dean's legs to maneuver into it and quietly left the room.

Dean put his hand once again on Sam's arm then slid it down to grasp his little brother's hand gently in his own. Sam's fingers unconsciously curled around Dean's and though the eldest brother knew it was merely a reflex, he was grateful for it.

He glanced down feeling regrets. Regrets that he hadn't told Sam that this past year and a half with him had been the best thing that ever happened, of how proud he was of him, that he needed him.

Things had been so messed up since Dad had died. Dean was angry with his father and the anger that he felt burned a searing pain through the very core of his being. He was angry at his Dad for dying, for making a deal with the damn demon that had ruined their family to begin with, for trading his life for his own, for putting the responsibility of keeping Sammy safe completely on his shoulders with his little brother's life dangling in the balance if he wasn't successful, and for telling him he would be the one to kill Sammy, if he messed up.

All that anger had put a wall between he and his brother and a pain like he'd never known in his heart. The emotion was overwhelming in and of itself, but coupled with grief, it was crushing.

Somehow, he'd taken it out on Sam. It wasn't intentional, nor was it controllable. It wasn't Sam's fault, it's just Sam was the closest person to him and always seem to receive the brunt of whatever he was feeling.

God, he wished he could go back…. no, go forward. Sammy had to come out of this mess alive so he could tell him……tell him that he loved him. He'd said he was sorry, before. In a away, it was an I love you, a Dean I love you, anyways. Dean had many ways of telling his little brother he loved him: calling him a bitch, a geek brain, putting itching powder in his shorts and things in his mouth while he slept, but the actually words had never been spoken and now, Dean feared, they might never be. Why it easier to express those feelings when his little brother was asleep or unconscious, he didn't know, but if the kid woke up, hed be damn sure to tell him.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by an unusual click from Sam's respirator. At first, it startled him and the fight or flight reflex burned through the veins of his body. He stood up and looked worriedly at his brother's chest. When no alarm or whistles went off and the machine returned to the steady whoosh and click that it had maintained since Sam was first artificially respirated, he took a deep breath, patted his brother on the arm, and sat back down. After the relief had finally washed over him and returned to its rightful place on the shelf where Dean was keeping it until his brother was riding shotgun again in the Impala complaining about his music choices, his attention went back to his little brother.

"Hey, kiddo" Dean began as he looked over his brother's damaged frame following the tubes from his body to their origins and back down again. His heart fell back down with them for a moment and then he rallied.

"I hear things are starting to rattle around in that geek brain of yours." Dean whispered and then smiled, remembering how Sam would always give him a look whenever he said that. _God, I'd give anything for that look._

Dean licked his lips and cleared his throat, trying to find his voice.

"You gotta keep fighting, little brother. You can't give up or stop now……. Rattling's not enough, man. You gotta fight all the way back, Sam. You hearin' me?"

Dean glanced over to his brother's taped eyes and once felt the sting of threatened tears in his own. It pained him to see his little brother's eyes sealed shut as if they would never open again. He couldn't bear the thought.

"You hear me, Sam?... You fight this," Dean demanded as his weakened body shook with conviction.

Dean felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder, the warmth of whose hand it belonged to, settled him and he began once again to wilt. Bobby gently ushered him back to bed where he returned to a sedated slumber and the nightmares that waited for him there.

oooOOOooo

The next two weeks, Bobby stood watch over Sam and Dean, praying over Sam and helping Dean, while he remained supposedly bedridden, though most of his time he spent at Sam's side riding the rollercoaster ride of Sammy's fight for life with him.

Sam would climb to the heights of surviving, only to plummet quickly, unexpectedly, frighteningly downward to dying. Just when Dean feared that Sam had lost his strength to survive, the ride leveled and began its long assent back towards survival, the wheels clickety-clacking slowly indicating their struggle to reach the top. Dean never knew how high each "hill" of the rollercoaster ride would be, but now lived in constant fear of the track's downward slope which always seemed to be just around the bend.

Sam's brain activity levels increased significantly despite the battle that was waging war inside his cruelly assaulted body. At times, especially on the downward slopes when an organ threatened to fail or his blood pressure dropped dangerously low or his hear beat irregularly, it was the only news forthcoming that offered Dean any hope.

Eventually, Sam's body leveled out and it seemed as if the ride was finally coming to a stop.

oooOOOooo

"Well, he's stabilized," the doctor reported enthusiastically. "I'm taking him off the critical list. His fluid levels are good. There are no further signs of internal bleeding and his blood pressure has remained within the normal range for over six hours. Kidney and liver functions are normal and his heart is maintaining a steady rhythm."

"What about the swelling in his brain?" Bobby questioned revealing his concern that Sam not suffer surgery in his newly found stable condition.

"There's been no change, either way, which is good. I expect the swelling to go down in the next few days."

"And his brain activity?" Dean questioned knowing that all would be lost if his little brother's brain did not return to normal soon.

"I don't know what to say. Your brother's got somebody watching out for him, I guess, because I can't really explain it. His waves are looking good and still increasing."

For the first time, Dean could honestly say, "Thanks doc".

The doctor smiled. It was an honor he had so desperately tried to earn and was pleased that the eldest Winchester had bestowed it on him. While Dean had been difficult at times and hard to please, his passion for his brother's wellbeing was always his reason, and the doctor couldn't help but admire him for it.

oooOOOooo

Sam's brain activity levels continued to climb, his brain waves took on a more normal pattern, and there was high anticipation that he would be one for the record books. Bobby didn't want to get his hopes up, while Dean couldn't keep his from soaring. Eventually, Sam's levels reached the range of normal and the doctor indicated that once his lungs were more healed, he would wean him off the respirator, end the medically induced coma that kept him sedated while respirated, and anticipate Sam's arousal.

One week later, Sam joined the ranks of the privileged few and earned his rightful place on the record books. The swelling was down and all brain activity and functioning was determined to be normal. He was weaned off the respirator, wires and tubes were removed except for the feeding tube down his nose through his throat and into his stomach and the fluid drip which provided him with the liquids he needed until he was able to drink on his own. All he needed to do, now, was wake up and Dean, Bobby, and the staff eagerly awaited the event. Dean and Bobby waited with some trepidation, not knowing if the Sam they knew would be returning the exact way he had always been. The threat of brain damage still lingered in the backs of both their minds, though neither spoke of it.

oooOOOooo

A few days later, Dean was released from the hospital, though no one could really tell except that he no longer had a bed to sleep in. He remained faithfully at Sam's side, eating, sleeping, and living inches from his little brother's life.

The police, finally allowed to investigate since doing so would not compromise his health in any way, came by to speak with Dean about the roadhouse incident. Ellen, when she stopped in to check on he and Sam, had given Dean the details of the account she had given the police so that Dean was well prepared to repeat it.

They gathered his statement in order to compare it to the other witnesses and verified that Dean had acted in self defense as an innocent victim in a horrendous crime. His alias checked out, and after Dean had spun a tale of woe so convincing that they actually felt sorry for him, they left, indicating that he may be called upon to testify against the robber that had survived. Dean gave a number where he could be reached, not, and they left.

Bobby returned home soon after. Too attached to the boys to walk away completely after being relieved by Dean, Bobby remained in constant touch through visits and phone calls. At Dean's request, he started calling in favors from hunting friends for information on Gordon's whereabouts. He and Dean both feared the hunter would come calling some day and they both preferred to find him before he found them.

Neither Bobby nor Dean were surprised that no one had heard from or seen Gordon in over a month. The man kept to himself and had no family which made him difficult to track. Bobby began researching newspapers on line looking for signs of vampire activity figuring the hunter would be drawn to those areas, and then the faithful friend would go look for the man. Bobby wasn't keen on killing, but after what Gordon's group had done to Sam and the threat that the sadistic hunter still posed, he would do whatever was needed to protect John's boys, his boys, he considered them, if necessary.

oooOOOooo

A week went by, then a second, and still Sam remained unconscious. Sam's face was healing, no longer a swollen mass of bruises and cuts. His features were returning and he looked more like he was asleep, than unconscious.

Dean remained constantly at Sam's side talking, reading him books, even singing, doing all that he could to keep his brother's brain engaged. He told stories and jokes and reminisced about past hunts and spoke of pranks he had already planned, but not had the opportunity to engage. His relief still remained on the shelf where he'd put it, ready to be pulled out at the moment of Sam's awakening.

Dean was hopeful that maybe today would be that day.

"Hey, little brother...You listening to me? …..…Huh?" Dean questioned as he leaned over Sam's face, willing his brother to open his eyes. He brushed Sam's bangs to the side where his little brother liked them.

He felt compelled to do so every time Sammy's ninety year old nurse combed them straight back giving him a pompadour that was simply ridiculous. Dean often felt compelled to let her know it was the year 2006, but was afraid the old lady might have a heart attack on him, bringing the police right back into his face, and he couldn't have that. Instead, he took on the repetitive chore of fixing his little brother's hair as soon as she left.

'You know, I have such an urge to stick a spoon or a straw in your mouth right now, Sammy,…… and take your picture." Dean teased hoping by some miracle, Sam would open up and roll his eyes annoyingly at him and call him a jerk.

Dean paused as memories of good times flashed through his mind. He looked down sadly when his little brother remained still and unresponsive. "… but I got to tell ya, it's not much fun doing pranks on you when you're unconscious, kiddo….. asleep , maybe, but unconscious…." Dean shook his head, "it just isn't the same."

Dean put his hand gently on his little brother's head for a minute, then ran his fingers through his hair in amazement that it had grown so long in such a short time. He withdrew his hand and smiled.

"Could give ya a hair cut," he snarked out, half laughing at the image of his brother waking up to discover he was bald. "We'd have to go buy you some shoe polish or something…so you could keep your head all shiny." Dean watched Sam's eyelids, but got nothing to indicate his brother was even listening.

"C'mon man, I'm losing my voice here…I can't honestly believe you want to hear all this crap from me. I'm even sick of hearing myself talk." Dean reached over and pulled the blanket up near his brother's neck and tucked it in gently around his shoulders.

Still, Sam remained unconscious, the relief shelf continued to gather dust, and Dean became discouraged.

oooOOOoo

Though the doctor never said it, and Dean never asked, brain damage lingered in their thoughts.

The nurses, who used to walk in cheerfully, smile at Dean and glance eagerly over to see if Sam's eyes were open seemed to lose their pep. Even the doctor's report seemed stale and over rehearsed and as time went by, no report was needed. Sam's body was healing, no complications, no signs of infection, normal brain activity….just unconscious, always unconscious.

Ellen stopped several times to check on the boys once Bobby had taken off. Her visits went pretty much the same. She'd stop in, place her hand gently on Dean's arm, and ask him if he was okay and how Sam was doing. He'd mutter, "No change". She'd nod knowingly, sit for a bit and then leave, giving Sam a kiss on the forehead before she left with promises to stop by again in the next couple of days.

The days turned into weeks and time went by in slow motion as Dean waited to find out if his own life was going to be worth living.

oooOOOooo

One afternoon, after seeing Sam's unconscious body laid out, unmoving, artificially surviving on feeding tubes and IVs, day after day, Dean began to lose hope. Dean had his hand on Sam's, his thumb gently rubbing his arm to let him know he was there and he sighed heavily. Unaware that Ellen had been standing at the door watching, feeling like she was intruding on a moment only the brother's should be sharing, Dean laid his head down on Sam's arm and sobbed.

Ellen, unable to see Dean suffering anymore, torturing himself with guilt, drowning in hopelessness, initiated a conversation.

"He knows you're here….s'why he's staying," she offered gently moving in from the door to stand beside him.

Dean lifted his head, startled by her presence, wiped the tears from his eyes and turned to look at her.

"What?" he questioned. His eyes were blank and ghosted, as if empty of all life.

"Sam…he's here because you are," she offered, "He's holding on to you because you're holding on to him."

Dean was so guilt ridden, he couldn't accept Ellen's implication. His brother was dying because of him, not living cuz of him.

"You're wrong," he rasped out. "He's here because of me, alright….. if I hadn't messed up…If I had just trusted my gut, he never would have been there in the first place. He's dying because of me, not living cuz of me," he concluded angrily.

"Dean Winchester, for someone so sharp, you can just be so dull at times. He's dying because of Jake and some other dumb ass hunters, eleven to be exact, who drew a stupid line and forced you and your brother across it. And he's not dying! Your brother is alive because you dared to go against the odds to save him! "

"It doesn't matter now. I just want him back," he stated sadly.

Ellen nodded sadly. Dean could not, would not afford himself any credit that Sam was alive because of him and she knew she couldn't convince him otherwise.

"I miss him," he said looking up with tears in his eyes.

Ellen was taken back by Dean's transparency. She nodded, clearly understanding the bond the boys had and the loss he was experiencing. Dean had already suffered loss when John had died and coupled with this, he was simply drowning.

"I keep thinking he'll open his eyes any minute and give me his goofy smile. God, I miss his geek brain always rolling his eyes at me, his over moral conscience, his annoying little habits. Hell, I even miss all his touchy feely crap. I'd gotten used to knowing what he was thinking…. feeling, I can even deal with the fact that he might be….that his brain was…that there may be long term issues with his mind and all,….. but this…..." Dean gestured to Sam's unconsciousness, "…this is…."

"…is not the way it's gonna be for long, Dean. He's growing stronger every day. The doctors think it's only a matter of time until he..."

"It's been seven weeks! He should have been awake by now, not lying there like this. Something's wrong, Ellen."

"Now, Dean, now, they said it would take time. Four weeks ago he was brain dead. Now his brain is functioning normally."

"Then why isn't he waking up? Stirring? Doing something, anything?"

"He will. You keep holding onto him as tightly as he's holding on to you. If you give up, Dean, if you let go, Sam will be lost. He needs you, your strength, your belief that he can do this…"

Dean nodded. "I won't let go…not now…not ever. How can I? Even if he…." Dean paused unable to even complete that thought, "…I could never let go."

"Good! Now believe he'll be alright. Claim it and it will happen, Dean. I promise," she said patting him gently on his shoulder.

Dean was comforted by Ellen's confidence. He knew she had no power over Sam's wellbeing, but he was so in need of someone telling him Sam would be alright.

"No more tears, now you hear? You talk to that boy until he tells you to shut up," she added smiling warmly at Dean.

A slight laugh escaped Dean's lips almost in a whisper and a smile swept across his face. The tears that had glistened in his eyes moments earlier, were reabsorbed, never to fall hopelessly down his face again.

Dean and Ellen sat in silence for a moment before Ellen stood to leave.

"Thanks" Dean offered gently when Ellen rose.

She smiled. "Your Daddy would be proud of you boys. You handled yourselves well and Sam's alive to prove it. He'd be real proud." With that she kissed Sam on the forehead, paused next to Dean, then leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head, and left the room.

Dean was surprised by the loving, motherly gesture, but found he actually appreciated being cared for just this once and he moved in closer to Sam again.

Ellen's words had sliced through the veil of despair that had been clouding his vision and awakened something in him…hope.

"Sammy?" he whispered softly. "Don't know if you can hear me, kiddo, but you need to wake up. I need you to, man. I can't stand seeing you like this……It's killing me."

Dean paused and looked Sam over from head to toe. Sam remained unresponsive. He wrapped his hand around his little brother's, took a deep breath and continued daring to believe.

"Ellen says you're here because of me. I don't know if that's true or not, but if it is, I need you back….. completely, not like this, little brother." A tear slowly pooled just inside his eyelid and cascaded down the side of his face. "Not like this."

oooOOOooo

Sam's door swung open and his doctor walked in.

"Dean" the doctor acknowledged as Dean stood in anticipation of test results.

"Doc" Dean nodded, "How is he?"

"His scans look good. Everything indicates he should awaken any minute."

"You've been saying that for weeks now," Dean complained, "but there's been no change."

"Sometimes the body heals faster than the mind. With the trauma he experienced, frankly I'm not surprised he's taking his time."

"When he wakes up, will he be himself? I mean, will his brain be okay?"

The doctor smiled knowing Dean had asked the question that had been burning in everyone's hearts for a long time.

"By that are you asking me if his remaining unconsciousness is an indication of brain damage?"

Dean nodded nervously.

"The brain is an amazing organ, Dean. It is not uncommon for a person to register as brain dead initially due to lack of oxygen and then to recover fully once the brain receives the oxygen it needs. It all depends on how long the brain was deprived whether a full recovery will take place or if there will be long term damage."

Dean nodded at his all too familiar words.

"Everything looks good, but we won't know for sure until he wakes up. Then we'll determine if any damage occurred. Time is not an indication at this point of brain damage. His brain activity is good. His body is recovering. The only way to determine brain damage is…"

"when he wakes up." Dean finished having heard the conversation so many times before.

"I'm confident he is capable of waking up. He just needs time. You're doing all the right things…talking, reading, letting him know you are here. He's got to take the final step and I believe he will take it."

Dean nodded. He'd heard it so many times before, but the doctor's confidence was greatly appreciated. Dean clung to the hopeful promise that his voice seemed to offer.

"Keep talking to him."

"Until he tells me to shut up….I know." Dean added.

The doctor looked at Dean and smiled at his unusual comment. "I suppose that would be a good indication he's awake."

Dean nodded and smiled as the doctor walked over to Sam and checked his pupils, his blood pressure, and IVs.

"S'he good?" Dean questioned.

The doctor nodded. "Sam, can you hear me, son?" he questioned loudly as he placed his hand on his shoulder and gently jostled him.

Sam didn't respond.

The doctor turned sympathetically to Dean. "Give him time. Give him time," he reassured.

Dean nodded again. "My time's all his," he offered dedicatedly.

Tb

Ah, the joys of writing! With a flick of my Bic, I can make a Sammy-sized miracle appear before my fanfic readers' eyes. I know, I know, the miracle needs to be a bit bigger…but it's a start! No need to create that Save Sammy Campaign! I'm on it, guys!

For my reviewers :

I did it! No cliffy! You guys owe me big time! Sammy's partially fixed so you can all breathe, sleep, eat, and finally believe me that this ISN'T a death fic! Told ya! Giggles! Love, love, love all you guys! You are all so much fun to interact with! Let me know what ya thought. Hopefully, you can put away your tissues after this chapter…but then again….with the flick of my Bic……….. Rachelly


	7. Living's Not Enough

**Previously on Supernatural**

"Keep talking to him." the experienced physician counseled.

"Until he tells me to shut up….I know." Dean added.

The doctor looked at Dean and smiled at his unusual comment. "I suppose that would be a good indication he's awake."

Dean stood pensively looking down at Sam. The physician could tell by his solemn expression that Dean still feared his brother might not.

"Give him time, son. He'll wake up when he's ready. You just gotta give him time," he reassured the faithful sibling.

"My time is all his," Dean offered dedicatedly.

**Chapter 7**

Sam's doctor nodded, once again impressed by Dean's undying devotion to his little brother. He couldn't help but feel like maybe he'd missed out on something special, not having had a big brother of his own.

He checked the drip in Sam's IV and increased it slightly, then continued on to finish his exam and report.

"Once he's awake, we'll remove the feeding tube and IV. He'll be weak, but with a little extra help, he'll be able to eat and drink on his own," the physician explained smiling at Dean knowing exactly where Sam's 'extra' help was going to be coming from.

Dean nodded. He was totally committed to doing whatever his little brother needed when he woke up, including spoon feeding him if necessary until he had the strength to do it himself. He couldn't help but wonder, however, if Sam would be okay about being fed.

When Sammy was five months old, he sure didn't mind. Dean smiled as he remembered the lazy circles he used to make with Sam's airplane spoon as it came in for a landing on his little brother's tongue. Sammy would always open up whenever Dean putt, putt, putted the utensil close to his mouth, and he and his mom used to laugh when Sam shoved it all back out in anticipation of its exciting return. It grossed Dean out to no end to see half the food get spit back out and dribble down his baby brother's chin, but he kept on doing it simply for the joy it seemed to bring his five month old sibling.

The doctor pulled Sam's blankets down to his waist, opened his gown, and began listening to his heart and lungs. The movement pulled Dean abruptly back to the present.

Dean glanced over his little brother's exposed chest as the stethoscope moved slowly, deliberately, from left to right, pausing periodically. With the feeding tube as his only source of nutrition, Sam had lost a lot of weight over the past seven weeks, if that was even possible considering how thin he was to begin with. His ribs and collar bones protruded so much so that it made his skeletal frame easy to imagine beneath the skin that clung so tightly to it.

Dean looked sadly to his brother's face and sighed. Even the kid's face showed the weight loss. The bones were much more pronounced and his cheeks had taken on an almost sunken look.

"Is his weight okay?" Dean finally asked as his concern reached a level of worry. "He looks…."

"Thin, I know. Feeding tubes are affective, but not great at maintaining additional weight. I can increase his caloric intake which should prevent him from losing more. Some of what you're seeing, however, is loss of muscle mass which he will regain over time with use."

Dean nodded. When Sam woke up he was gonna feed the kid at least five meals a day and be sure he got a good workout when he was up to it.

The doctor then closed Sam's gown and recovered him with the blanket.

"Well, that's it. He looks good. I'll be back in a few days to check on him. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to contact me."

Dean nodded, and once again the words, "Thanks Doc," rolled easily off his tongue.

He'd kind of grown fond of the man he had initially despised, having found him truly concerned about Sam's wellbeing after all, and he would always be grateful to him for bringing Sam back from death's door.

The doctor moved to leave and then suddenly stopped by the door and turned around.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, that friend of yours stopped by again today to check on your brother. He asked the same questions as before, and like always, I told him he'd need to speak with you…patient confidentiality and all."

Dean nodded. "Bobby is family. You can tell him anything about Sam without checking with me," Dean assured.

"It wasn't Bobby." the physician commented having met Bobby earlier as he sat vigil at the brothers side. "He's never given me his name, and to be honest, I've never asked," the doctor replied feeling somewhat as if maybe he should have.

"What does he look like?" Dean questioned surprised it wasn't Bobby and thinking maybe Joshua had finished up his hunt in Louisiana and made a few appearances. He knew Bobby had told the hunter about the ambush at the roadhouse and Sam's condition, and the hunter had planned to stop by, though he thought it odd, Joshua hadn't made his presence known.

"Well, uh, he's tall, thin, and has a soft, steady voice…very friendly guy actually, now that I think about it."

Dean narrowed his eyebrows. He'd describe Joshua in many ways, but friendly wasn't one of them. He listened more intently as the doctor continued.

"Said he didn't want to disturb you... and that he'd be back."

Dean shook his head indicating that he hadn't come up with a match, yet.

The doctor paused, trying to form a visual of the man in his head.

"Oh, and he's black if that helps at all."

Alarm flashed across Dean's face as his heart skipped a beat and began pounding against the wall of his chest…._Gordon_

"Is he here now?" he questioned anxiously as his eyes darkened and his voice dropped.

"I don't know. I saw him a little over an hour ago, but….."

Dean bolted out the door and began frantically scanning the hospital floor.

The doctor was surprised by Dean's reaction and followed him out into the hallway.

"What did he ask you?" Dean demanded needing to gain insight into the devious hunter's intentions.

"He wanted to know how Sam's recovery is coming along and when I thought he'd be awake and released," the doctor said apologetically when he saw Dean's reaction. "Don't worry, I didn't say anything. You can fill him in yourself when he comes back. Said he'd be back as soon as he takes care of something."

Dean glanced at the doctor in horror, and then panic etched across his now healing face.

"Are you okay?" the doctor questioned putting his hand on the clearly shaken young man before him.

Dean wiped his hand across his face, replacing the panic that had been there with his game face.

"Uh, yeah,….. I'm fine." he reported and flashed his 'I'm always fine' look as best he could. "Can you excuse me?" Dean asked eager to be alone to sort out what he was going to do.

"Sure," the doctor offered looking confused. "I'll stop by tomorrow to check in on Sam."

Dean nodded distractedly.

The doctor shrugged, and walked out to finish his rounds.

Dean's first instinct was to protect Sam and he immediately returned to his brother's bedside and took up a position that would allow him to see into the hallway if Gordon should approach, yet remain close enough to Sam to protect him and to urge his little brother awake. He cursed himself for not having his weapon with him, but was not about to leave Sam's side in order to get it.

His second instinct was to put himself in Gordon's shoes and try to determine the hunter's next move.

Gordon was clearly part of the lynching mob that had ambushed he and Sammy at the roadhouse. Jake had delivered Gordon's little 'gift', sending him backward in his chair, and said he was taking Andy out at the time. So there was no doubt that Gordon was coming to finish what Jake had started…to kill Sam.

The question was….why now? Gordon could have taken Sam out more easily while Dean had been incapacitated, lost in the drug induced sleep that claimed him on and off the first two weeks as he recovered from his gunshot wounds and other injuries. Maybe Andy had done his mind mojo on Gordon and sent him off on a wild goose chase and the hunter had finally returned, or worse, maybe Gordon had killed Andy, and has been lying in wait the past seven weeks for an opportunity to get Sam. The second possibility chilled him. In the end, it didn't matter _why_ Gordon had waited so long. He was here, now, and Dean suspected he was getting ready to make his next move. The question remained what that move was.

Dean began retracing his conversation with the doctor. Gordon was asking for when Sam would be released. Dean reasoned that either Gordon was preparing to strike Sam here in the hospital where he was most vulnerable before he was released, or he was going to take him out once he left the hospital.

Dean glanced down worriedly at his little brother. It was bad enough Gordon was coming for him, but in his condition, he didn't stand a chance against him and Dean struggled to control his panic as he became overwhelmed with the thought, fearing once again for his little brother's life.

Knowing Gordon, the thrill of the hunt would involve stalking Sam and seeing him go down, seeing the life drain from his body and the defeat in his eyes. The thought sickened the eldest Winchester on all kinds of levels. In order for Gordon to experience the hunt in such close proximity and in such detail, it was reasonable to assume he wouldn't make his move on Sam until he was out of the hospital where he could get him alone. The fact that he'd been by before and returned looking for the release date seemed to suggest he wanted to hunt Sam out of the hospital starting the moment he was released. Dean determined he would remain on his guard, he always was when it came to his brother, but the threat of an immediate hospital strike was unlikely.

His mind continued going over his conversation with the doctor seeking additional clues that might be helpful. Something suddenly stuck out in his mind. The doctor had said Gordon would be back to check on Sam after he _took care of something_…question was…what did he need to take care of?

"Shit!'

Dean immediately pulled out his cell and frantically dialed Ellen.

oooOOOooo

"Hey Dean. How's that sweet brother of yours?" Ellen answered in her husky, but friendly voice.

"Ellen, listen to me, Gordon's here."

"What? Honey, are you sure?"

"I'm sure. He's been seen around asking questions."

"Damn," Ellen cursed. "You think he's coming for Sam?"

"Yeah, I do, but he's a hunter, Ellen. I doubt he'll try anything while Sam's here in the hospital. He'll wait until he's released. Right now, it's you and Jo I'm worried about."

"What, you think he'd come after us?"

"Gordon does his homework and by now, he's heard the new reports. I'm sure he's put it together that you helped us."

"Damn"

" Listen, I want you and Jo to get away from the roadhouse until I can figure out where Gordon is and what he's up to."

Ellen didn't reply.

"Ellen?"

"I'm here."

"You get yourselves away, safe somewhere."

"Now Dean, I can take care of my own."

"No. Gordon is a sadistic bastard. Who knows what he'll be thinking."

Ellen didn't reply.

"Ellen, I mean it. You've got to go now! You call me and let me know where you're hold up. I'll send Bobby to your location. He's a good man. You can trust him. He'll take good care of you till I can figure things out."

"I know Bobby, Dean." Ellen hesitated. "Alright."

She covered the phone, but Dean could make out her end of the conversation. _Jo! Pack up, sweetie, we gotta go. Don't argue with me, Joanna Beth, just do it!_ She returned to Dean.

"I'll call once we're on the road. You be careful, you hear. I don't want anything else happening to that sweet brother of yours …or you either."

Dean glanced over to Sam. "I will. Call me as soon as you're on the road."

"Got it... and Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I ….."

"You can thank me when you're safe." Dean concluded and ended the call.

He immediately speed dialed Bobby.

oooOOOooo

"Good news, I hope?" the old hunter's voice gruffed out, eager for a call that the youngest Winchester had awakened.

"Bobby, I need a favor." Dean stated flatly, his tone indicative of distress. "I need you to head this way and help Ellen and Jo. I think Gordon's going after the girls."

"What makes you think that?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"He was here at the hospital asking questions about Sam and you can be damn sure he won't let Ellen and Jo off the hook for taking out his hunting buddies."

"I gotta take care of something first, but I'll be there by midnight."

"I need you now, Bobby, midnight might be too late. Ellen's gonna call when she's on the road and I'll connect you two. I need you to keep them safe till I can figure something out."

"You got it. I'll be on my way in less than an hour."

"Thanks, man." Dean offered appreciatively.

"You boys gonna be okay?" the hunter asked in a fatherly tone.

"Yeah." Dean replied reservedly. "Just help the girls."

"Be safe. Call me with their location."

Dean ended the call and settled back down at Sam's bedside, nervousness rattled up and down his spine. He was pretty sure Gordon wouldn't try anything in the hospital, but the guy was just bold enough to push the limits and Dean didn't want to underestimate him.

Dean looked down at Sam as he gently placed his hand on his arm. "C'mon little brother, wake up,"he urged feeling as though time was no longer unlimited. "I need to get you safe, kiddo," he whispered as he stroked Sam's forearm with his thumb.

He looked his brother over from head to toe, hoping for movement, then sympathetically patted his arm twice and signed.

He couldn't really blame Sam for not waking up with what he would be facing: the aftermath of the brutality of the near lynching, the accusations of being a demon soldier and the fears he knew his brother would experience as he tried to make sense of his destiny, the long recovery that lay ahead, Gordon still on the hunt. But unfortunately, he had no choice. Sam needed to wake up. His life depended on it.

"C'mon man. Wake up!" Dean demanded louder than intended. He was feeling desperate to get Sam back before it was too late.

Still, his younger sibling remained unresponsive. "Damn it!"

Dean was just too on edge to sit, so he began pacing around the room, keeping one eye on the door for any signs of trouble and the other on Sam. His thoughts raced as he wondered how the hell he could protect Sam from Gordon and how long it would take before Bobby rang to say that he was near enough to help the girls.

ooOOOoo

Dean's cell phone rang less that an hour later. Dean had practically worn a path along the side of Sam's bed and chewed his thumbnails down to the nail bed. Dean checked the number. It was Bobby's.

"Yeah, man, what's up? Need directions?" Dean heckled trying to mask his anxiety in the only way he knew how.

"Dean," Bobby's voice was flat. "Turn on the news."

"What? Why?"

"The news! Turn on the local news."

Dean grabbed the remote and flipped on the hospital TV. CBS was tuned in.

Scenes flashed before his eyes….flames…..fire trucks….A reporter had just finished interviewing a soot smudged fireman. He turned up the volume as she concluded her report.

"tragedy. The identity of the two bodies have yet to be released. Fortunately, the explosion occurred before the crowd had rolled in. Well, that's it here at Harvell's Roadhouse. This is Candice Kelly reporting live for Channel 10 news."

Dean's eyes stung as his jaw dropped. Tears pooled and he sunk slowly to the floor. He buried his head in his hands.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice called out from the fallen cell phone at Dean's side. At first Dean didn't hear it, only the loud hammering of the pain he felt deep in his heart.

"Dean! DEAN!"

After a bit, Bobby's voice broke through to him and he picked it up.

"Jeezus, Bobby, Son of a Bitch. He killed them. Ellen and Jo….he killed them," Dean declared incredulously.

"We don't know for sure it was them at the roadhouse," Bobby commented trying to offer comfort and hope to the devastated Winchester.

"It was them, Bobby. I know it. Ellen would have closed up when she heard there was trouble. Said she'd call me when they were away. She never called."

Dean ran his hand through his hair, then wiped it across his face.

"Damn it! I'm gonna kill that bastard!" he cursed as he rose angrily to his feet and began pacing rapidly.

"Dean, listen to me. You gotta get Sam out of there," Bobby warned, redirecting Dean's thinking. "Bastard's gonna finish what he started."

Dean looked over in a panic to Sam, fearing now, more than ever before, for his little brother's life. The recklessness of Gordon's actions instilled terror in Dean's heart to an almost uncontainable level as he realized Gordon was now desperate enough to go after Sam _in_ the hospital. This was no longer a hunt to the man, it was revenge.

"Listen, Dean. I'm on my way to you. Stay put. We'll take Sam out together. We'll have a better chance with the two of us."

"He's still unconscious, Bobby! How the hell are we gonna take him out while he's still dependant on a feeding tube and IV to stay alive? I don't see how we can do it without causing him harm!"

Dean rubbed his hand across his worried face.

"He can go without food and water till we can get him to a different hospital, Dean. He can't stay there. Not with Gordon around."

"Yeah, I know that," he replied feeling trapped between a rock and a hard place. "But you can be damn sure Gordon's gonna search all the hospitals within a hundred mile radius lookin for him. Sam's not safe in a hospital. There are too many ways Gordon can get to him…medicine, poisoning, hell, he could just walk in and shoot him….God, Bobby, I can't protect him in a hospital," Dean despairingly concluded.

"Then we'll take care of him ourselves. We'll get some extra supplies and directions on how to administer what he needs. Hell, your daddy taught you how to do an IV and you've done it before. The feeding tube is another issue, but if it's already in him, we just need to get a hold of the supplies to keep it going. We can hold up in a motel and, as long as we're careful, Gordon won't know where to find Sam. You've nursed your brother back to health before, Dean. We'll figure it out."

"Damn, I wish he'd wake up."Dean muttered overwhelmed with the situation and fearful that Sam's unconscious state might cost his little brother his life.

"He will, Dean, but right now, we gotta move him, awake or not."

"Yeah, okay," Dean responded. "Just get here as fast as you can and bring me a weapon, hell anything you can get past security. Gordon's not taking Sammy away from me, Bobby, he's not!"

"You got it. I'm leaving now. I'll be there before sundown... and Dean," the older hunter offered knowing full well the weight Dean would be placing on his shoulders, "it's not your fault. The girls I mean. There's nothing you could've done."

"I could have gone to them, myself. Made sure they got out." Dean growled angrily as the reality of what had happened burned a whole into his heart.

"And left Sam? No, there's nothing you could have done. Your job is to protect your brother, and that's exactly what you did. There's no regret in that, you hearin me?"

Dean did not respond.

"Dean? You hearin me?!"

"Yeah, I hear ya." Dean sighed. He knew Bobby was right. Sam needed him and he was where he should have been.

"I'll be there soon as I can. Just hang tight. And be careful!" Bobby directed and hung up.

oooOOOooo

Dean took a deep breath and his mind wandered back to Ellen. She and Jo didn't deserve to die, not like this, not at all. Jo, my god, she had barely begun to live life and now this. And Ellen, god he missed her already. She was a good friend. She'd stood by Sam's side when her own life was threatened, and she'd saved him. She'd given Dean hope, believing that Sam would one day be okay. Dean could never repay her for that.

The eldest Winchester cursed himself. He should have seen this coming. He suspected that Gordon could be a problem. He'd even warned Ellen on her first visit to the hospital, but she felt she couldn't hide forever and wanted to wait until signs of trouble told her otherwise. He had worried for her at first, but when nothing came of it over the past several weeks, he'd let down his guard and they'd paid for it with their lives.

Dean's attention fell back to Sam. There was no way in hell Sam was gonna pay with his life. He wouldn't let down his guard or underestimate Gordon again.

Dean glanced down at his brother. It was no longer a matter of giving him time. Sam needed to wake up, his life depended on it.

It felt so strange to be thrown once again into the throngs of trying desperately to save Sam's life. Dean felt that chapter in this heart wrenching book should have ended by now. Sam had suffered enough and deserved to be well and safe. But like a cruel novel that keep throwing its characters into oceans of agony, trying to accomplish angst in the hearts of its readers, fate kept seeming to toss his little brother back out to sea, requiring Dean to struggle desperately to reel him back in, or lose him forever within its murky depths.

He placed his hand gently on his little brother's shoulder and leaned up close to his peaceful face, hoping somehow to reach Sam wherever he was and pull him back.

"I don't know if you can hear me, little brother, but you have to wake up, right now... I get it, I do. All the shit you've been through would be enough to make me hole up somewhere safe, away. ...And I've tried to give you time to deal little brother, really I have, but things are all screwed up, right now and there's no more time. ...Gordon's coming, Sammy ….. and he's coming for you. I gotta get you away, somewhere safe, where he can't hurt you or," Dean's voice hitched, "or take you away from me.

Dean choked up as the stress of all that could happen to his little brother momentarily overwhelmed him. He took a deep breath, glanced over to the door and listened for a minute, and then moved his hand to Sam's head and began slowly stroking his forehead with his thumb.

"You gotta ditch this sleep crap, kiddo. Crawl out of that safe hole you've been hiding in and get back to living. I'm right here. You won't have to face any of it alone. I swear, Sam….I swear….you come back to me and we'll face this shit together and I promise…… I promise you, Sammy, I'll do whatever you need, whatever it takes to help you get past this. This surviving shit that you're doing sucks, man, it sucks...Live, Sam, don't just survive. Please. I can't protect you this way and I just can't take surviving anymore, not when it comes to you, little brother, not when it comes to you."

Dean rested his forehead momentarily on Sam's, willing his little brother to connect with him somehow and find the courage and strength to grab hold and face the world he had been hiding from for so long.

Dean stood back looking for a sign that he had made contact.

When none came, he sighed, patted his little brother on the head and sat down once again. Feeling like there was little more he could say, he rested his hand on his brother's arm and returned to his vigil. His eyes once again began to ping pong back and forth betweent he door and Sam. Discouragement and fear once again pulled at him. Bobby would be there soon, Sam was still asleep, Gordon was on the prowl, and who knew what lay ahead. Dean sighed. Without Sam, none of it mattered.

What Dean didn't realize was that, when he had rested his forehead on Sam's, he _had _made contact.

Sam's eyelids suddenly fluttered.

As Dean's eyes went back and forth between the door and Sam, Dean thought he detected movement. His eyes were immediately drawn to his brother's face. The movement had been so subtle, Dean wasn't sure if he'd actually seen it or just imagined it.

"Sam?" Dean softly questioned, daring to believe.

Sam's eyes moved slightly beneath their lids. It wasn't much, but Dean definitely detected the movement and slid forward in his chair.

"Sammy?"

Sam's eyelids moved again almost in a blink.

"C'mon….c'mon……c'mon, little brother, open your eyes for me," Dean coached willing Sam to comply.

Dean stared intently, but the movement he had seen completely stopped.

"No, no, no, no, no. You're not getting off that easily, kiddo."

Sam's eyes once again slowly moved beneath the lids.

Dean jumped up expectantly, but the movement once again stilled.

"So, you're gonna make me work for it, are ya?"

Dean paused and waited. Still, Sam's eyes remained unresponsive.

"Alright, little brother, I'm game. Tell ya what. I'll make you a deal. You open your eyes, right now, and I won't ever refer to you as a girl again."

Dean studied Sam's eyes and waited hopefully…….nothing.

"No? Okay, what about….I won't make fun of your geek brain for at least a week?"

Sam's eyelids twitched again, but didn't open.

"Aw, c'mon Sammy, open up. Cut me a break, will ya?"

"I'll let you pick the music in the car…."

Dean watched and waited...nothing

"Allow one chick flick moment a month ...(a twitch)"

" a week? (nothing)

"a day?!!!"

Still, Sam's eyes remained closed, though they appeared active beneath the lids.

"Okay, I'll initiate a damn chick flick moment. Ya happy?" Dean declared rolling his eyes and throwing his arms up in the air and out to his sides.

Sam's eyelids sqwinched a bit and his lip moved slightly up in the corners.

Dean missed the response and when he looked back down, all movement had ceased. The still, peaceful look that he had grown to hate over the past seven weeks, once again claimed hold of his little brother's face.

"C'mon, Sam," Dean coached and then sighed heavily when he didn't get another response. "You gotta be in there, somewhere, kiddo. Give me some help here, huh? What do I have to say to get you back here with me, man?"

"Throw in the car ….and you'll have yourself a deal," Sam's voice rasped out slowly and deliberately from an overly dry mouth as his eyes squinted open, offended by the light, to look up at his big brother.

"Sam" Dean whispered breathlessly as his body stood frozen for a moment.

His eyes, now tearing, searched his baby brother's, soaking them in and delighting in their vibrancy. He'd never noticed how beautiful his little brother's eyes were before, nor the look of gentleness that radiated out from them, nor the way they seemed to look right through him and lay open his soul.

Dean slowly leaned over and gently kissed him on his forehead.

Sam was moved, silenced by his brother's tenderness and show of emotion. He closed his eyes and smiled allowing himself to receive the affection his brother was offering, knowing it was a rare expression, one he might never experience again.

Dean straightened back up and placed a hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Damn, Sammy, it's good to see you awake," he finally choked out, finding his voice after being so overwhelmed with emotion.

Sam nodded and smiled, his eyes showing a glint of pleasure at his brother's show of affection and clear display of concern.

Dean nodded as a big, dumb smile swept across his now dripping, overly happy face. He had finally pulled the 'relief' off the shelf where it had been waiting for seven weeks and allowed it to cover him from head to toe. He swept his hand across his face wiping off the tears and all the stress from the past seven weeks along with them.

Sam was afraid his brother's face would freeze, forever taking the form of the Joker's if he didn't serious-up soon.

To his surprise, his brother's face instantly changed.

"Jeezus, Sammy. You scared the crap out of me! Don't ever do that again! " Dean threatened, with a scowl on his face.

Sam smiled again, familiar with his older brother's scowl, having seen it numerous times before when Dean had feared for Sam's life. It was a brilliant show of anger, masking the utter panic that had just lay hidden beneath.

"**Sam-my**!" Dean's growled as his eyebrows furrowed when he realized his brother had answered his question and may have been listening and alert long before he had let on. "How long have you been awake?!!!"

Sam smiled. "Long enough." Dimples splashed across his cheeks.

"Bitch. I'm thinkin you're gonna be unconscious for the rest of your freakin life…..that you've given up on me…… I'm pouring my heart out to you and you're…. what?…faking it!!!"

"You're the jerk, thinking I need all those promises to wake up. Dude, you're my brother. If you need me, that's enough." A smile swept across Sam's thin face, " Living, not just surviving….sounds good to me."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you let on? I've been worried sick."

"Wanted to see how far you'd go. It's not often you express your true feelings for your little brother, you know," Sam muttered affectionately knowing what Dean would say before he even opened his mouth to say it.

"Oh, god, shoot me now!"

Dean knew he should be mad at Sam, but he was too damn happy the kid was finally awake and seemed totally fine, no brain damage of any kind that he could tell except for maybe the damage he would inflict on his little brother for playing possum.

Sam smiled and gestured for a drink of water. Dean immediately obliged.

"Hey, I had my fingers crossed, I'll have you know. Those promises?…… they don't count."

Sam snorted and rasped out. "Like hell, they don't. You gonna tell a wounded man you won't keep your promises."

Dean couldn't believe his brother played the wounded card and even more that it worked. "Yeah, alright, maybe the… _I won't call ya a girl for a week_ …will still hold up."

"Gee, thanks" Sam added sarcastically as he attempted to move his leg. It was sluggish, clearly atrophied, but movable. When he moved his arm to probe the wound on his leg, he felt a wave of pain shoot through his shoulder. He couldn't help but gasp, having been unaware of the gunshot wound to his shoulder.

Dean tensed immediately. "You okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed and laid his heavy head back down on the pillow amazed at how tired he was suddenly feeling.

"You need a doctor?" Dean asked worriedly.

"No, just didn't realize I hurt my shoulder."

Dean nodded. Sam had been pretty bad off and he wasn't surprised his brother couldn't remember it.

"Jake….he, uh,….he shot you in the shoulder, Sammy …..after your leg," he offered softly. Just talking about it hurt Dean deeply.

Sam nodded as the painful memory of what happened came crashing down on him. His eyes dropped and he turned his head away.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I tried….I really did, but I couldn't stop him in time."

Sam looked back at his brother in sympathy. Dean always blamed himself whenever he got hurt. He guessed it was a big brother thing cuz no matter what he would say in rebuttal, he could never get his big brother to shed his guilt. If something happened, it was always his fault. The best he could do was to reassure Dean he was okay, because he knew that's what mattered most to him.

"I'm here….. I'm alive. Looks like you did okay." Sam offered sweetly.

"You're alive, I'll give you that." Dean replied with a smile. _God his little brother was adorable, still believing in him even when he had screwed up so badly._

Dean looked at his watch, five minutes, and then glanced back at Sam whom he could tell was forming a question in his mind.

"What?"

"Jake and the others?"

"Dead. Most of them anyways. One survived but, hopefully that bastard will be in jail for the rest of his life."

Sam nodded with relief and then eyed Dean suspiciously. The mere mention of Jake and the others had clearly upset Dean and his brother seemed awfully concerned about the time.

"You okay?" the youngest Winchester gently questioned hopeful his brother would open up.

"Better now," Dean replied with a half smile clearly dodging question.

Sam knew Dean well enough to know something was up, but he just didn't have the strength to push his brother on the issue. Still, he couldn't help but notice his brother's watchful eye constantly checking the door.

"So what've you been doing? Watching the nurses or just daytime TV?" he questioned tiredly, acknowledging his brother's watchful eye and gesturing towards the flashing screen in the corner.

The question brought Dean smack back into reality and his face drew seriously grim. Sam needed to know what was going on and Dean feared what his little brother's reaction would be. Dean knew he needed to tell Sam about Jo and Ellen and about Gordon and it pained him. The kid had just survived a horrendous attack and was in desperate need of a sense of safety and Dean hated to have to rip that out from underneath his little brother, not minutes from his return to awareness, and throw him into the sea of guilt that his brother practically drowned in on a daily basis.

"Hey, man, talk to me," Sam requested worriedly as he took in his brother's change in demeanor.

"A lot's happened while you were asleep, little brother.

Sam nodded having already been informed of the hunters deaths, but detected that Dean's grimness wasn't related to that. He probed his troubled brother further. " …and…."

"and Gordon…" Dean hesitated as the word caught in his throat.

"Gordon?" Sam questioned incredulously.

"He was just seen here in the hospital." Dean paused and apologetically muttered, " I think he's coming for you."

Sam's jaw dropped as he looked at his brother in fear.

"Bobbys on his way and we're getting you the hell away from here, somewhere safe until I can take care of Gordon."

"What are you gonna do? You can't kill him."

"Sam, Ellen and Jo are dead."

Dean said it more brashly than he had planned, but it was his justification for taking out Gordon.

"What?!" Sam cried out. "No," he whispered shaking his head.

"Gordon blew up the roadhouse not too long ago. The girls were on their way out. I guess, he..,"

"Did Gordon killed them because of me?" Sam questioned with eyes begging Dean to tell him otherwise.

"No, Sam. Gordon killed them because he is a sadistic son of a bitch! And now, he's comin for you. We're not waiting around for him to strike first. We're getting the hell out of here and hiding you until I can take care of Gordon."

"God, Dean," Sam sighed as tears filled his eyes. "I can't believe they're dead."

Sam's eyes looked sad and it pained Dean to see him that way. His little brother had a lot to sort through already, and Dean knew in just a few minutes, Sam would be faced with a whole lot more. There wasn't time to explore what had happened in the roadhouse and help Sam deal with any of it. Gordon was coming and Sam's safety was the only thing that mattered right now.

Tbc

Don't be shy, review or reply! Rachelly


	8. Step By Step

**Previously On Supernatural Ambush:**

Sam's eyes looked sad and it pained Dean to see him that way. His little brother had a lot to sort through already, and Dean knew in just a few minutes, Sam would be faced with a whole lot more. There wasn't time to explore what had happened in the roadhouse and help Sam deal with any of it. Gordon was coming and Sam's safety was the only thing that mattered right now

**Chapter 8**

A knock on the door drew both Winchesters' attentions. Bobby entered, nodded to Dean, and smiled at Sam, clearly pleased to see the boy was finally awake.

He made his way to Sam's bedside and patted him gently on the shoulder. It was about as close to a hug as anyone got from Bobby. He had a heart of gold, but like Dean, wasn't always comfortable expressing it.

Sam put his hand on top of Bobby's to receive the 'hug' and smiled, glad to see the old family friend.

"Bout time you were blinkin', son," he squawked. "Seven weeks is just too long to be looking at the insides of your eyelids."

"Seven weeks?" Sam repeated incredulously looking to Dean for confirmation.

Dean nodded. "Seven weeks, two days, and thirteen hourssss…( his voice drifted off as he felt embarrassed when the two looked at him in surprise.) … but who's counting."

"You, apparently," Sam offered smiling that his brother had missed him that much.

"Yeah, well. Beats counting the hairs on that geek head of yours," Dean snarked back. "Dude, you need a haircut."

Sam brushed his hair out of his tired eyes. Surprised by its length, he nodded in agreement.

While Dean wanted to keep things light for Sam, the purpose for Bobby's arrival cast a darkened shadow that could no longer be ignored. He turned to the hunter with serious eyes indicating that it was time to get down to business, the business of saving Sam's life.

oooOOOooo

The two experienced hunters began planning their strategy to get Sam safely out of the hospital. The task seemed monumental, but the determined men tackled it with fervor.

The first stage of the plan required reconnaissance, surveillance, and tactical maneuvers on Bobby's part. He would do the surveillance of the hospital and parking garage, reposition their vehicles in the garage for easy location and quick getaways, secure the vehicles themselves, and get weapons from the trunk of the Impala.

Dean's role was to secure the immediate premises, safeguard Sam, and ready him for transport. He would remain with Sam to protect his little brother should Gordon make an appearance, and prevent any forms of medicines or food that could possibly be tainted from being ingested or injected into his brother. He would also take care of securing his brother's release, which he imagined was going to be quite difficult, see to the removal of all of his medical support….tubes, IVs, etc. and gather any information needed to achieve a full recovery for Sam.

Both in agreement with full understanding, having worked expertly with one another in discerning what needed to be done and every detail on how to accomplish it, they set out to complete their tasks.

Bobby paused in the doorway and turned around to look at Dean.

Their eyes met for a moment.

Bobby's eyes offered fatherly concern, assurance, and 'I'll be right back'.

Dean's reflected worry, determination, and 'be safe'.

Bobby nodded and headed out the door.

Dean nodded and turned to his little brother.

Sam nodded ….off to sleep, too exhausted to remain focused any longer.

Dean looked over at his sleeping brother. It was hard to let Sam drift off. The fear that his brother might not wake up slithered around inside his body along his spinal column and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Everything in him wanted to go over and shake Sam to be sure he could be woken up, to know that the sleep his brother was enjoying was not of the unwake-able variety. But he knew his fears were irrational and he did his best to lay them to rest.

oooOOOooo

Within moments, a nurse popped in unexpectedly, startling the distracted hunter, and he took a defensive stance.

"Jumpy, aren't cha?" the wisp of a girl giggled as she scooted over to replace Sam's IV bag.

"He doesn't need that stuff anymore. He's awake. Can you take it out?" Dean asked eager to prepare his brother for transport.

The nurse looked at Sam sleeping in the bed and then at Dean with raised eyebrows.

"I mean, he woke up. He's asleep now, but he's awake. I mean he _was_ awake." Dean smiled awkwardly.

The nurse stared at him.

Growing frustrated by her lack of response, he reiterated his request. "Can you just take out his feeding tube and IV?"

"I'd have to check with his doctor. _If_ he _is_ awake, the doctor may want him connected a little while longer, just until he starts eating and drinking on his own, to be sure he can absorb solid foods. It's been a while you know."

Dean was irritated by her implication and sarcasm. "He _is _awake, he already had a drink, and he wants to be released. In fact, I need you to get me the paperwork. Can you at least do that?" Dean questioned annoyed with the uselessness of the girl.

The girl huffed. "Released?!!! Dr. …..His doctor would never advise or approve his release, at least not yet." She began once again to ready the IV bag for replacement.

"Then get me the paperwork to have him released **against **Dr. Reynold's advice …you know…AMA forms?" he questioned sarcastically. "And don't change his IV! He's got enough fluids left in the one he's got."

Annoyed by Dean's tone, the girl said she'd see what she could do and huffed away, taking the IV replacement with her. "What is it with people these days? Always think they know better than the hospital workers!"

Dean waited a few minutes, but the girl didn't return.

Time was passing, Bobby would be back soon, and the things he needed to accomplish were taking too damn long. Annoyed, he called to a passing nurse and requested to see Sam's doctor in regards to his release.

oooOOOooo

Ten minutes later, Sam's doctor showed up.

"Hey, Dean," the doctor started off, his tone was somewhat reserved. "So I hear Sam's finally awake?" he added checking Sam's IV drip and taking his pulse.

Sam stirred a bit at his touch, but settled shortly after.

Dean face broke out an uncontainable smile. "He woke up a little while ago totally fine. He knew me, talked perfectly normal. It was him, just like he always was."

"S'good news, Dean. The best we could have hoped for. I'm truly happy for you and Sam."

Dean eyed the doctor suspiciously. The once friendly man who would have normally been extremely pleased was clearly guarded.

"How are his reflexes?"

Dean shrugged and shook his head. "Don't know."

"His lung capacity?"

Dean shook his head again. He had no idea how to even check Sam's lung capacity.

"Muscle tone? Strength? Is he able to digest solid foods?" the doctor asked deliberately.

Dean could tell where the doctor was going and stood silently before him.

Reynolds, seeing Dean's reaction, felt badly for coming on a bit too strong and softened his approach.

"You know I'm thrilled that your brother is awake, right? And that he seems okay. It's what we wanted and have been praying for," Reynolds acknowledged. "But I have to tell you, your brother is in no condition to be leaving the hospital right now, Dean. He's suffered tremendous injury, an extremely slow recovery, and his body needs to be evaluated to determine what he is capable of doing and what is needed to move him towards a normal healthy lifestyle. I'm glad that he can talk and that he seems like himself, but can he reason, discern, comprehend complicated issues? This isn't an 'okay, you're awake, let's move on' scenario and I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that it would be. He needs time, here, to get evaluated and off to a good start."

The doctor eyed Dean for a moment trying to gage whether he had been affective in convincing him that Sam needed to stay or whether he needed to push harder. Dean seemed quiet, clearly disturbed and even upset, but from what he could tell, the elder sibling's mind hadn't been changed. So he continued on.

"And we haven't even discussed the psychological issues and recovery involved in such a brutal attack. We have yet to determine the emotional impact of what happened to Sam and the physical ramifications that can occur because of it…sleeplessness, lack of appetite, anxiety, depression, suicide….."

The doctor placed his arm gently on Dean's. "It's not in Sam's best interests for him to leave now …. and to be honest, I think to do so would be harmful."

Dean nodded and licked his lips as tears stung in the corners of his eyes. The words seared deep into Dean's heart, like a sharp dagger, they were piercing and painful to hear….emotional impact…physical ramifications…suicide. The doctor was right. Sam really was in no condition to leave and Dean agreed that it could be harmful to pull him out, but, it would be deadly to keep him in. Gordon would eventually get to Sam. It was only a matter of time. Dean had no choice. His brother had to leave.

The doctor shook his head realizing that he hadn't convinced Dean of his sibling's need to stay and couldn't count on him to talk Sam out of leaving. The physician was completely baffled. It was so out of character for Dean to do anything that would be harmful to Sam. He'd seen the brother labor for days frantic for Sam's life and now to be so willing to carelessly, recklessly toss it to the wind...it unsettled the man.

Knowing that if he wanted to get Sam to stay, he would have to convince Sam himself, he leaned over the bed and called gently to his sleeping patient.

"Sam?"

Sam stirred and slowly opened his eyes. Sensing a presence immediately over him, he searched for his brother's face. His eyes widened at the unfamiliar man that hovered over him.

"I'm Dr. Reynolds, Sam. I've been your doctor for the past seven weeks. It's nice to finally meet you." The doctor spoke in a friendly and gentle way as he lowered the blanket on Sam's chest down to his waist.

Sam felt awkward, wiped his sleepy eye with his hand and looked for Dean.

Dean moved closer, keeping one eye on the door, and nodded to his brother that it was okay.

Sam returned his gaze to his doctor.

"How do you feel, son?"

"Okay," Sam answered in barely a whisper.

The doctor smiled. Okay wasn't exactly what he had expected and he couldn't help but admire his patient's disposition. Usually when he'd ask one of his patients that question, he'd receive a long list of complaints and a look of, ' you're a God, so fix me' Sam was different … gentle, vulnerable, selfless… and the physician took a liking to him right away. His feelings made him all the more protective of Sam and strengthened his determination to see his patient recover fully, in the hospital where he belonged.

"I'm going to listen to your heart and lungs, alright?"

Sam nodded as the doctor opened his gown and listened.

"Take a deep breath for me, as deep as you can, and try to hold it."

Sam obliged, and took a breath, heaving is bony ribcage up and out drawing the skin taut against it.

It was painful for Dean to watch. His little brother looked so fragile, so thin.

The doctor listened carefully, deliberately, and then nodded for Sam to exhale.

"Any pain, dizziness, or desire to cough?"

Sam nodded. "Pain"

Dean moved in closer, concern splashed across his already anxious face.

"Can you tell if the pain is coming from your ribs, lungs, or somewhere else?"

"Ribs, I think. Don't really feel like I can take a deep breath either."

Dean nervously glanced up to see the doctor's response.

"That's to be expected, Sam," the kind man reassured as he jotted a few notes on his pad. "Your lung capacity is reduced due to your injuries and lack of use," the doctor gently explained. "Your lungs are not able to process the air your body requires effectively yet. As long as you're still, at rest, you won't notice it, but if you were to move around, you'd become easily winded if not dizzy. We'll put you on a recovery program and your strength and capacity will increase over time as you work at it," the doctor reassured as he readjusted Sam's gown and blanket.

Sam glanced over to Dean wondering why his brother hadn't told the doctor about his early departure.

Dean, nodded, indicating he already had.

Sam furrowed his brow, not understanding why the doctor was making plans for him if he was leaving. He was unaware of the doctor's intentions to change his mind.

The doctor continued his exam.

Dean glanced over to the door wishing the good doctor would hurry up and either approve Sam's release or get the AMA papers.

"Put your hands up and out like this," the physician said putting his hands in a high five position.

Sam complied, but looked over at Dean and raised his eyebrows. His brother shrugged, having no idea what the purpose was in that little maneuver.

"Now press against me and push. Try to move my hands back."

Sam complied, pushing past the pain in his shoulder. It wasn't easy, but he knew Dean would worry if he indicated he was hurting. Dean had enough to worry about with trying to sneak him out before Gordon could get him, without adding Sam's troubles on top.

"Good. Now try to push my hand to the right with your right hand…… Good. Okay, now to the left……. Good. Now do the same with your other hand."

Sam tried, but the pain in his shoulder caused him to gasp.

Dean winced.

"Sorry, Sam," the doctor whispered softly. He concluded his exam by checking the reflexes on both arms and jotted down some final notes.

"S'he okay?" Dean questioned anxious to hear the doctor's conclusions.

Reynolds looked over to Dean and then back down to Sam. He normally would paint a bright picture to instill hope in his newly recovering patient, but he knew the boys were considering leaving, and he wanted to tell it like it is, hoping that the honest truth would force their decision in the right direction.

"It depends on how you define okay, I guess." the doctor stated deliberately trying to startle the brothers into paying close attention. He cared too much about Sam's well being to sugar coat the situation.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. Sam's heart rate began to increase.

"Sam, your lung capacity is reduced, your muscle tone weak, and your reflexes are slow, far below average. All can improve and achieve normal ranges with time, however it will take a lot of _medical care _and_ expertise _to get them there…Now, what's this I hear about you wanting to leave?"

Sam looked sadly up at Dean who was looking like he was ready to punch the overly honest doctor in the face and wrap his dangling stethoscope around his medically expertised neck. The doctor had made his point and Dean was about to make his. Sam's soft voice interrupted Dean's near pounce.

"I want to go home and be with my brother," Sam pleaded, his eyes needy and wet.

A lump formed in the back of Dean's throat that threatened to choke him. Dean searched his brother's eyes to determine if Sam was the best damn actor he had ever seen or if his little brother was truly pleading from his heart, pouring it out for all to see. He felt himself losing his composure when he realized it wasn't an act.

Sam had been through hell. To him, it happened yesterday. He hadn't had the luxury of putting seven weeks between himself and the ambush, and his little brother was in desperate need of his older brother and a sense of safety, something he obviously felt could be found at 'Home'. Sam's home was with Dean, alone, involved in the same everyday routines…living in motels, eating at the quickie marts, riding shotgun. His brother's happiness rested in these.

The doctor felt a lump as well and found himself speechless. His patient's well being was dependent on emotional needs, not just physical, and it was obvious, Sam's emotional recovery was going to be based on being with his brother at home wherever that was.

Reynolds took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then, after a moment, he began to speak.

"Technically, I guess you could be released since you are no longer dependent on medical assistance for basic life needs. I would have liked to see you eating solid foods first….."

A small smile began to creep up at the corners of Dean's mouth.

The doctor continued thinking out loud. "You could receive outpatient services for your continuing recovery, but that puts an awful lot of responsibility on the two of you. You, Sam to do what's required to return your body to full strength. It's hard, painful work and you'll need a lot of patience."

" Dean, for you, you'd have to literally provide for all his needs…one hundred percent…to walk…dress…to eat...personal hygiene…" The doctor scractched his head. "He'd need bed rest for the first week. I have a lung device that Sam can use to blow into to strengthen his lungs and increase his capacity. You can take it with you if you promise to return it once his capacity is up to the correct range. He'd need to be seen once a week for blood work to be sure his body is processing food and functioning correctly and of course, he'll need extensive physical therapy."

"If you boys think you can handle all that, I guess I can agree to your release, Sam. But, if there are any changes to the negative, I want you back in here. Understand."

Dean nodded committing to shoulder all the responsibilities mentioned for Sam. It was the one thing he knew he could do, hell, he'd been doing it his entire life.

Sam nodded too. He trusted Dean completely with his life. Always had, always would, and he'd do whatever was required of him, if Dean said he needed to.

"But I have to ask, is there anything I can say to talk you boys into waiting just a few more days? At least until Sam is able to get a round a little bit on is own?"

Sam and Dean both shook their heads.

"Alright" the doctor stated sadly. " When we've finished here, I'll sign for his release," the middle aged physician declared looking at Dean with an almost relinquishing look. He was basically handing Sam over to Dean, and it was obvious, it was difficult for the man.

"Let's get you disconnected, Sam."

The doctor removed Sam's IV tube, pulled out the port, and put pressure on his arm to slow the bleeding.

"Do you want to be sedated, while I remove the feeding tube? It's a pretty uncomfortable procedure and I'd recommend it."

Sam knew he needed to be awake for their quick exit that was soon to take place. He shook his head no. Dean frowned, despairing that he couldn't off his brother any other choice.

Reynolds called for a nurse to assist and within moments she was at his side.

The nutritional supply was removed first and disposed of by the nurse. She returned and placed an assuring hand on Sam's arm and gently rubbed it, a tactic often used to help distract patients during difficult procedures.

"This is going to be a bit unpleasant, Sam. I'm sorry."

Sam nodded and braced himself. Dean moved in and grabbed hold of his hand.

"When I tell you, I need you to take as deep a breath as you can and hold it. Can you do that? Don't release it until I say."

Sam nodded again as his anxiety levels began to rise.

The doctor told Sam to take a breath and began the slow, painful process of inching the tube from Sam's stomach.

Sam's body tensed. His face winced with pain and tiny drops of salty tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes.

Dean felt Sam's grasp increase and he held his brother's hand firmly, pleading in his heart for it to be over soon so his little brother wouldn't have to suffer.

The doctor paused. "Sam, you can exhale now and breathe normally for a minute. We're half way through."

Sam released the stale air that had built up to an almost intolerable level, allowing his oxygen starved lungs to receive a full supply of fresh air. In and out, in and out, his lungs delighted in the freedom. His hand relaxed within his brother's. Dean let go and patted Sam's arm twice as if to say 'good job kiddo'.

"Ready to finish? Take another breath?" the doctor questioned sympathetically.

Sam reluctantly nodded, took a breath, and braced himself again, his hand opening to receive his brother's.

Dean slipped his hand inside Sam's and squeezed. He held his breath along with Sam.

A wince and a tear and a choke-like movement later, the tube was out. A sign of relief was expressed by all. Sam's eyes remained closed.

"Sam? You alright?" Dean and the doctor questioned in unison.

Sam nodded as his reflex to keep his eyes shut continued. Seconds later, it released and he opened his eyes. Dean's face was directly over his and he couldn't help but smile at his overly hovering sibling.

"Can you see me now?" Dean quipped imitating the cell phone company's slogan

"Unfortunately," Sam replied with a slight smile.

Sam's doctor smiled, amused by the boys and their playful relationship. "Well, that's it. I'll sign the release forms, hesitantly…I might add," he said glancing over to Dean. He returned his gaze to the youngest sibling. "And you, Sam, can go home and be with your brother."

Sam smiled, pleased to be going with Dean, not so pleased with the danger that it would involve to get there.

"I'll gather all the information you'll need and the names of local medical doctors for Sam's various needs. I recommend Dr. Anders here at the outpatient clinic. He's a bit gruff, but an excellent physician. Dr. Baker is a local doctor who can help your brother with the emotional adjustments when he needs it."

Dean's heart felt a stitch. The word 'when' just lingered there. Reynolds expected Sam would need professional help to deal and it just drove home the point at how damaged his little brother probably was. It hurt that Sam could be that broken, and he clung to the hope that maybe his little brother, though traumatized, had not been completely broken.

"_If,_ he needs it." Dean corrected.

The kind hearted doctor understood Dean's need to believe his little brother was going to be okay. "If" he echoed with a smile.

Once again, the words "Thank you" rolled off Dean's tongue along with an extra "for everything."

"Take care and keep me informed. Call anytime if you have questions." He smiled warmly and left, his nurse following closely behind.

"You okay?" Dean questioned Sam as the thought of his baby brother being broken still burned a hole through his already struggling heart.

Sam detected the question to be more than a physical one. Dean's eyes seemed to look straight into his heart, into his emotional world which had never actually awakened to the new dawn that his body had experienced. The question shone a flashlight onto the darkened place illuminating its existence. The feelings that were held prisoner there longed to be released, but couldn't. Only their shadows were able to make it to the surface and be reflected back through Sam's eyes.

Sam nodded wearily, but Dean could tell that he wasn't. Though Sam was clearly fading from fatigue, there was a solemn emptiness to his gaze that reflected something more. It was as if the connection between Sam's physical existence and his emotional had somehow been severed and the lack of emotional had left a hole where the sparkle that was Sam used to be. Sam was broken, and although he was no longer holed up physically, emotionally he was barricaded.

Knowing time was short, Gordon was near, and the emotional world was hidden too deeply to be reached by a quick conversation, Dean smiled sympathetically and let it go.

Sam, not ready to unleash the emotions, was grateful. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Moments later, exhausted from the medical procedure and his body's lack of stamina and feeling somewhat queasy, Sam was asleep.

oooOOOooo

About five minutes later, Bobby returned.

Dean held his finger to his lips, indicating that Sam was asleep and the hunter should speak softly. He wanted his brother to get as much rest as possible before he put him through the demanding routine of escaping from the hospital.

"See anything?"

"Checked your car and the lot. Both look clean, no tracking devices or signs of sabotage," Bobby announced quietly tossing his young friend his keys and the weapons he had brought for him. "Moved it to the second floor of the parking garage, 28B."

Dean repeated the number in his head, locking it into his long term memory.

"I'm on the floor just above, same number, and Dean? You were right," the hunter groaned out, "Gordon's car _is_ in the garage, third level 35C."

Dean stiffened and glanced anxiously over to his friend. He acknowledged, his lips tight, eyes dark as he shot them over to Sam. His brother was still asleep and unaware, and for that he was grateful.

"What about the hospital?" Dean questioned softly.

"Hospital's clear from what I can tell. There's a security guard on each floor by the elevators. I think that's our best bet. Stairway runs parallel to the elevator down to the first floor. You have to switch to a second elevator to get down through the parking garage. There are windows on the stairway doors and you can see the elevator easily from them."

Dean patted Bobby on the back, appreciative of his hunting expertise and his friendship.

The two started mapping out the rest of the plan.

"I'll get you and Sam to the elevator," Dean began, "and then shadow you through the stairway, level by level."

Bobby raised his eyebrows, surprised Dean would place Sam in his charge and be the one on the move.

"Gordon will be looking for me to be with Sam, not you," Dean explained having detected Bobby's surprise. " You'll have a better chance of getting past him if he's in the building."

Bobby agreed.

"Keep Sam to the back of the elevator, aimed forward. You stand in front of him facing the doors, weapon ready. When you've dropped to the second floor, push the door/ close button and hold it ….say 1 minute. That will give me time to get into position in the stairwell and cover you.

Bobby nodded, "I'll hold it two, just in case."

Dean acknowledged, " 2 minutes. After the two minutes, release the door and be ready. I'll be in the stairwell covering you if Gordon decides to show. If anyone else tries to board..."

"I'll wave them off, medical emergency or something," Bobby finished. "I wish we didn't have to stop at all on the second floor. You know, go from third straight down to first."

"We have to. If anyone requests an elevator on the second floor after you've boarded on the third, it will automatically stop on the second and meanwhile, I'd be down on the first and you wouldn't be covered. No, we have to take it floor by floor.

Bobby agreed.

Dean continued. "Once you've waved people off, reclose the door and do the same thing when you get to the first floor. Keep the doors closed and allow me 4 minutes to scope and secure the place. I'll get to the front door to cover you and draw Gordon's attention away in case he's there and watching. Switch elevators and head down one level to your truck."

Dean paused and held up a finger. Bobby immediately turned towards the door. Both listened for a moment paying close attention to the increased activity outside Sam's door. After a moment, they determined it to be nothing of concern, got a quick visual on Sam, and continued.

"When you get to the first level of the garage, hold the door closed another two minutes so I can work my way down to you and I'll cover you and Sam to the truck. If Gordon engages me anywhere along the way and I'm not there when the doors open, keep going straight to the truck and get the hell out of there. You do whatever you have to do to get Sam safe."

Dean gently grasped the hunter's shirt in his hand and pleaded, "That's all that matters to me, Bobby. Sam. No matter what happens, keep him safe."

Bobby nodded solemnly, understanding what Dean was asking of him. If it came down to it, he wanted the hunter to leave him behind, to die, if necessary, to save his brother.

"And if we get separated?" Bobby questioned, wanting to believe that if Gordon did engage and delay the eldest Winchester, that he would triumph and catch up.

Dean smiled, touched by the family friend's confidence that they would all make it out alive.

"Let's meet two miles north on highway 56. Start counting the miles from where you merge. There's a gas station just off the highway. I forget the name, but it's privately owned. Pull around the side or back for cover. If I don't show in 30 minutes, take off and don't look back."

Dean looked pleadingly up at Bobby, a heartfelt request radiated out from him.

The older hunter acknowledged the request with a nod, committing to take care of Sam and watch over him for the rest of his life as Dean had done since the day he was born, if he didn't make it.

A moment of silence passed between them before Dean looked worriedly over at Sam and began unbuttoning his shirt. It was time to get Sam ready and begin the daunting task of ushering him to safety.

"God, I hate to have to do this to him," he whispered as he removed the garment and placed it on Sam's bed for his sibling to wear.

"We got no choice, Dean. If we're gonna move him, now's as good a time as any. "

"Wake him up and get him ready. I'll go get the paperwork for his care and a wheel chair." Watch your back…and his." Dean added fearful that Gordon might be watching them even now.

Bobby nodded fully accepting the responsibility of Sam's well being, which he felt honored Dean had entrusted him with.

Bobby gently woke Sam up and told the boy it was time to go.

Sam, feeling tired and a bit nauseas, looked for Dean, unsure if he could do this without him.

"He'll be right back, son."Bobby reassured gently.

Sam nodded agreeably and began willing his body to cooperate. His heart began beating nervously in his newly healed chest. His breathing increased along with it making it difficult for him to get the needed air with his diminished lung capacity.

Bobby detected his nervousness and rested his hand gently on Sam's shoulder to calm him.

With assistance, he slowly sat up. He paused a bit as the change in position brought on a change in blood pressure which caused a wave of dizziness.

Bobby gently placed a hand on either side of him to steady him until the wave had passed.

"You all right, Sam?"

Sam nodded and reached for Dean's discarded shirt.

Bobby helped as Sam got dressed, partially that is. He had a shirt, but he was gonna have to go out with his hospital pants on. They didn't have the luxury of time to prepare otherwise. Bobby had to ease Sam's arms into the sleeves and button his shirt, as Sam's shoulder was unforgiving of any movement. Then he opened up the closet, removed Sam's socks and shoes and put them on his feet. Sam's body moved clumsily, his muscles weak after not having been used in weeks and the movements caused waves of pain in and around the wounds in his shoulder and leg, but the two managed.

oooOOOOoo

Dean argued with the hospital staff for the papers he needed, assuring them that he had gotten Dr. Reynolds approval for Sam to be released and that they should look for the god damn paperwork if they didn't believe him. Eventually, the documents were found and after agreeing to comply with certain necessary medical procedures, Dean was given the papers the good doctor had left for him.

Sam's nurse, who had grown fond of the youngest Winchester over the last seven weeks, was most upset by the abrupt move to leave. She felt compelled to follow Dean spouting endless directions as he began his rapid search for a wheel chair for Sam while keeping an eye out for Gordon.

"Give him these for pain, one every six hours." she offered as her sneakers squeaked quickly over the newly polished hospital floor, trying to keep up with the urgently moving man. "They'll make him groggy but at least he'll be comfortable."

Dean stopped as she grabbed his arm and placed Sam's prescription in the palm of his hand. He nodded and continued his search.

She scurried right along with him. "Keep him resting and still, no exertion, his ribs are healing, but can be easily re-broken and his lung capacity has to be built up slowly. You overexert him and he's likely to pass out!"

Dean nodded again as he spotted an unused wheel chair near an elevator.

"Lots of fluids. Make sure he's eating right…lots of protein…. and he'll need physical therapy to get back the full use of his shoulder and leg. Start slow, keep his body movements small and work up. You'll have to balance his lung capacity and physical activity when you start!"

Dean gripped the handles, swiveling the chair around, and took off. The nurse continued to babble along behind him.

"Keep an eye on his blood pressure. He's been flat on his back for weeks and he may experience dizziness when he's upright. Don't let him walk by himself for at least the first few days until things balance out."

Dean finally stopped and turned to the young lady realizing that she'd follow him to the car if given the chance and potentially put Sam and herself in danger.

"I promise, I'll take good care of him, okay."

She nodded embarrassingly. "It's just…..I wish he were stronger. This is so sudden and…"

"and you want to be sure he'll be okay. I get it."

She nodded.

"Trust me, Sam's well being is all that matters to me. I know how to take care of him and I'll get him help if he needs it."

Sam's nurse took a deep breath and smiled.

Dean smiled back, grateful for all she had done for Sam and for her concern, and then scanned for Gordon, grabbed the wheelchair and darted off to Sam's room.

"Oh, and if there are any signs of fever, bring him back immediately," he heard faintly from behind.

He waived his hand up high in the air and kept moving.

oooOOOooo

Dean entered the room and found Sam sitting up in bed with his long legs hanging over the sides. Bobby was close beside him offering support. Sam's attire was interesting and Dean couldn't help but smirk. Dean's shirt was clearly too short for his oversized brother, and his arms dangled far beyond the cuffs.

Dean pushed the wheel chair forward and gestured that his brother's chariot was awaiting.

Sam frowned, but obliged recognizing he was in no shape to make it to the car on foot. He attempted to rise, but once again found his body unwilling to grant him the position he was desiring at the moment.

Dean rushed to his brother's side to offer him help. Bobby immediately moved out of the way and took up a position by the door to keep watch.

Sam inched his leg forward, then swayed a bit as his newborn fawn legs required more stamina than he was currently capable of sporting. He grabbed hold of his brother's shoulder for a minute and eventually steadied himself.

"Damn, Sammy. I'm sorry about this, kiddo."

Sam smiled bravely and pushed on, one leg at a time. Dean placed Sam's uninjured arm across his shoulders hoping to bear the bulk of his weight, and his arm around his little brother's waist, and the two made their way to the chair.

Sam's movements were awkward and he winced whenever he placed his weight on his almost healed leg.

It was painful for Dean to watch and he hated putting his weakened brother in such a frantic situation, definitely not the awakening he had hoped for his baby brother.

Dean placed his arms around his brother's waist. He could feel Sam's bones through the fabric of his shirt and it saddened him. _God, the kid had suffered so much. _Dean felt a familiar sting in the corner of his eyes. Knowing now was not a good time, he took a deep breath, swallowed his emotions, and gently eased his fragile brother down into the chair. Then he bent down and slowly lifted Sam's legs to put them onto the footplates.

Sam tried his best to help, but was really too weak to do much. Even his head seemed to require such effort just to be held up, and the dizziness and nausea wasn't helping.

Dean smiled sympathetically at him, patted him gently on his knee, and stood up, tossing a nod to Bobby indicating they were ready.

Bobby handed Dean a .45 and Dean reluctantly placed it between his little brother's nervous hands.

"Sorry, Sammy, but I want you to be able to defend yourself if it comes down to it."

Sam nodded and wrapped his fingers around it, surprised by how heavy the weapon felt in his hand.

Dean noticed Sam's hand drop slightly from the weight, then leaned over and released the safety so his brother wouldn't have to. Then he turned the piece around and fixed his brother's hands in the position needed to fire. Placing a blanket over his brother's weapon and legs, Dean looked back at Sam. He looked so young so vulnerable, so afraid. Dean gave his brother a slight smile. "You okay?"

Sam nodded hesitatingly.

"You ready?"

Sam took a deep breath and just looked at his older brother. The anxiety and tension in the room was almost suffocating.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam questioned softly.

Dean leaned back down and put his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Yeah, Sammy"

Sam looked up with pleading eyes. "Can I talk to ya for a minute?"

Dean glanced over to Bobby and then back to his brother. Bobby excused himself and returned to the door to stand guard. Dean knelt down and looked his brother, eye to eye.

"Sure, kiddo, what's up?"

"Promise me something," Sam beckoned, his voice was barely a whisper.

"Sure, Sammy, anything," Dean offered back confidently.

"Promise me, if it comes down to it….me or you….that you'll save you."

Dean's hear sank as he heard his little brother's request made through tear filled eyes. Dean would have agreed to anything Sam had asked, anything but that.

"I can't do that Sammy. Please don't ask me to," Dean's voice hitched out.

Bobby glanced over, clearly moved by the brothers' conversation.

"Gordon knows you and he knows you'd defend me with you life if you had to. He knows he'll have to take you out if he's gonna get a shot at me and I, uh…..I….," Sam swallowed nearly choking on his words. "You asked me to live, not just survive….."

Dean nodded. "I did."

"Well, I can't do living without you," Sam whispered as a tear escaped down his cheek.

Dean rested his head against his brothers for a quiet moment. Both closed their tearing eyes feeling each others' pain. Neither brother could live or survive without the other, if one were to die, the other would as well.

Dean sniffed and attempted to recover.

"What do you say we both live then, huh little brother? Take down Gordon's sorry ass and live to tell about it. That's my plan." Dean offered his troubled sibling trying to relieve his fears and rouse his morale.

"Look at the bright side, Sammy, if I don't make it, you get my car," Dean added playfully trying to build his spirits higher.

Sam smiled as a faint laugh escaped his lips. "Yeah, right. I get your car either way, remember? You promised if I opened my eyes, the car was mine."

"You musta been dreaming, kiddo. I would've never said that!"

Dean winked at his brother.

Realizing all had been said that needed to be, Bobby's voice suddenly rasped out. "I hate to break up this girlish moment between you two macho Winchester men, but times not on our side and we best get a move on."

The brothers nodded in agreement.

"You ready to do this?" Dean questioned Sam.

Sam looked at his brother. "Do I have a choice?"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, Sammy"

"Let's do it." Sam offered bravely.

Dean and Bobby instinctively felt for their weapons tucked secretively beneath their shirts, took a deep breath and began their desperate mission to get Sam safely out of the hospital.

Tbc

Don't forget to drop me a note (review). It's the "virtual chocolate" that keeps me typing! (wink) Rachelly


	9. The Great Escape

**Previously on Supernatural**

"You ready to do this?" Dean questioned Sam.

Sam looked at his brother. "Do I have a choice?"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, Sammy"

"Let's do it." Sam offered bravely.

Dean and Bobby instinctively felt for their weapons tucked secretively beneath their shirts, took a deep breath and began their desperate mission to get Sam safely out of the hospital.

**CHAPTER 9**

Dean's heart beat furiously in his chest as he slipped out into the hallway and initially scanned the hospital floor. The three most difficult tasks would be to get Sam to the elevator, to switch elevators on the first floor, and to get Sam off the elevator and safely to Bobby's truck.

He hoped this first trip would be uneventful, but felt for his piece safely tucked behind him, its handle positioned for easy access and its safety off, just in case. If it weren't for the security guard standing by the elevator, he'd have had his weapon drawn out in front, arms ready. He took up a position diagonal from the elevator and the stairway, one that offered a full view of the entire floor.

When Dean had determined that Gordon was no where to be seen, he glanced over to Bobby and gestured for him to move.

Bobby nodded and began the daunting task of getting Sam safely to the elevator, with both hands on the wheelchair handles, mere inches from his concealed weapon.

Dean watched nervously as his brother was wheeled around the nurses' station. There was tremendous activity on the floor as doctors and nurses came and went, and visitors popped in and out of rooms. He had to consider each and every person and his movements and anticipate where they might all be if Gordon showed up. He couldn't take the chance of anyone being in the way if he needed to take a fatal shot.

A group of nurses briefly clumped near the elevator waiting to take it down to a different floor.

Bobby stopped and looked over to Dean who subtly shook his head. No sign of Gordon. Then the two frowned simultaneously. Neither liked the idea of Sam being out in the open while the nurses took the first elevator and they wait for the next, which they hoped would be empty.

Sam glanced around nervously searching for Dean. When he made eye contact with his older brother, his lips curved into a slight smile. He took comfort in knowing Dean was watching out for him.

Dean stuck out his tongue playfully, grinned, and winked trying to assure his little brother all was well and would be…._god he hoped it would be._

Sam gave a whispered laugh, then smiled back while the same thought was running through his own head and turned his attention to the elevator.

The nurses soon boarded and the elevator doors closed. Bobby moved forward, positioning he and Sam slightly to the left of center so Dean could have a clear shot if he needed to take one from his position. He pushed the 'down' button and waited with his eyes fixed on the crack between the two doors ready to get the earliest glimpse of who was inside when they would finally open.

Sam's weapon moved unsteadily beneath his blanket as the weary and anxious hunter attempted to aim it directly at the seam between the doors.

Bobby, sensing Sam's anxiety, laid his left hand softly on his shoulder and gave a gentle pat while he placed his right inside his shirt and grasped his weapon preparing to take aim. The security guard near the elevator was busy flirting with one of the nurses. The added distraction was almost welcomed. The wait was nerve racking.

Finally the light flashed above the door indicating the elevator had returned to the third floor and the doors slowly opened.

Dean tensed, his weapon now in hand and hidden at his side between he and the hospital wall ready to take aim and fire in the blink of an eye.

Bobby straightened and aimed his concealed weapon, now in place hidden between Sam's shoulder and his body.

Sam held his breath and fingered his trigger.

All were relieved when an elderly man and his daughter slowly made their way out of the elevator. Both would have probably had a heart attack had they known that three weapons had been trained on them prepared to fire when the doors had initially opened.

As soon as the two were out, Bobby moved Sam inside to the back and turned him around, taking up a protective position between the door and Sam. Bobby pushed the button for the second floor, but stuck his hand in the door when it began to close, and looked over to Dean.

Dean nodded and held up two fingers, reminding the hunter of the two minute wait once the elevator reached the second floor.

Bobby nodded back and allowed the doors to close.

Dean immediately moved to the stairway and placed his piece securely in his waist band to keep it undetected by the security guard. Upon flinging open the door, he grasped his weapon once again and bolted down one flight of stairs taking up his position behind the window scanning the second floor for Gordon or any signs of trouble. Once again he began mapping people and patterns of movement should he need to get a clear shot, all the while counting out the remaining seconds until the door would open.

Sure enough, as if on cue, the elevator doors parted with Bobby standing just inside. Sam was not even visible behind the hunter who had obviously spread his legs and elbows out almost creating a human shield to protect Sam. Dean couldn't help but love the guy for it.

No one was waiting for a lift and no one was anywhere near the door, other than a security guard who seemed more interested in his cup of coffee than in the goings on around him. The first 'trip' had been uneventful and the three hunters could only hope that the next two would be as well.

Bobby and Dean made eye contact and nodded. Bobby pushed the first floor button and Dean bolted once the doors had completely closed.

Upon arrival at the first floor, Dean tucked his weapon behind him in his waist band, not wanting to create a scene that would give Gordon a diversion, making his hit on Sam easier. He slowly opened the stairway door and after scanning, made his way to the other side of the entrance doors and took up a position where he could watch the entrance, the elevator and the stairway and still have full view of the floor. There was no sign of Gordon and he began mapping the people and their movements once again.

The first floor was much more hectic as many visitors and outpatients shuffled around in unpredictable patterns either from being lost or simply unfamiliar enough with the hospital lay out to move in straight lines. Dean struggled to keep a clear visual on the elevator and realized if he had to take a clear shot, he'd need to be closer. He quickly scanned the floor again and decided he'd move to the other side of the entrance way and take up a position where he could still see the stairs, elevator, keep an eye on the entrance, and get a clearer shot. One more quick glance and he was on the move.

He suddenly felt a presence behind him and turned to move defensively.

"Going somewhere, Dean?" Gordon's voice smoothly questioned as he removed Dean's weapon from his waist band and pressed his revolver up against the eldest Winchester's back.

Dean froze and then plastered his game face on reflecting a smile of cool nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know. Thought I'd step out for a breath of fresh air, I guess," he replied sarcastically hoping he could move the hunter outdoors and away from the elevator.

"I hate to be the one to break it to you, but the air outside…..it's not as fresh as it's cracked up to be," he cynically countered as he moved in closer to Dean to block his poised weapon from peoples'sight.

Dean smiled and released a forced laugh trying to enhance his façade of cool confidence.

"Yeah, well, it's fresher than your breath," Dean retorted sarcastically waiting for Gordon's next move. The elevator had just arrived. He had four minutes to take out Gordon before his little brother's life would be threatened. Dean began counting down and calculating his next move.

"So, I'm curious. What's a hunter such as yourself ,doing here on the first floor of this hospital."

"Thought I'd stop by and see my dear, sweet, departing Granny up in the geriatric ward on the fourth floor. Poor thing, she's only got a few days to live, you know" Dean dramatically explained. _3 minutes 45 seconds left_

"hmmmm. You know what I think, Dean?" Gordon whispered in his ear.

"hm?"

"I think Bobby is about to bring Sammy down that elevator over there and you're waiting here to be sure he's safe from me."

Dean's heart rate doubled, his demeanor remained flat lined.

"Now how the hell would he be doing that? Dean questioned trying to mislead him. "You've been around. You know Sam's unconscious, unable to move."_ 3_ _minutes_ _27_ _seconds _

Gordon let out a whispered laugh, impressed that Dean was aware of his prior visits. "Unconscious?..Shouldn't be. Unable to move...Not necessarily."

Dean was unnerved by Gordon's first comment. It was deliberately spoken and seemed to indicate…..control?.

"You think I'm stupid enough to bring my brother out of this hospital with derelicts and riffraff such as yourself lurking in the shadows?" _3 minutes 13 seconds_

"Stupid?... No, I don't think you're stupid, Dean…..I think you're desperate. The thought of a your baby brother getting murdered, ripped from you at such a young age. It's enough to make anyone desperate."

"Oh, see, that's what it is," Dean commented mockingly. "You've made a mistake, got the wrong guy….. cuz my brother...well, he's all grown up now…6 foot 4 to be exact, though sometimes he can act like a baby. But, good luck to you. Hope you find who you're looking for," Dean taunted pulling away towards the entrance door as if the conversation was over. _2 minutes 51 seconds_

Gordon pulled the older Winchester back abruptly, clearly irritated by Dean's obnoxious banter.

Dean overreacted, exaggeratingly bumping Gordon with his back. The hunter cocked his gun.

"Cute" Gordon muttered.

"Now, see, that's what I keep telling Sammy, but he just doesn't believe me…thinks he's the cute one. I'll have to let him know you agree with me…when he wakes up, that is." 2 minutes 38 seconds

Dean eyed the elevator nervously as he continued the four minute count. He needed to get Gordon out of the hospital or into the stairway, anywhere other where the elevator was about to spill his little brother out. Maybe he could provoke Gordon to make a move.

Gordon ignored Dean's comment and went right on. "I know the bond you and your brother have…and..."

"Get to the point, will ya? Cuz I'm getting bored listening to all this pointless yapping of yours."

"The point? Okay, I'll get to the point. Your demon loving brother is gonna die. How's that? Pointy enough for you?"

Dean tensed his lip, angered by Gordon's flaming lie and his bold declaration of Sam's impending doom. He struggled to maintain his façade.

"Oh man! We're not gonna go over all that demon crap again, are we? Cuz, believe me, I heard it all from your buddies……….before I wasted them. The only only demon connection here…. is yours." _2 minutes 16 seconds_

Gordon, clearly agitated, stiffened and yanked Dean forcefully back. A passer by studied the two men briefly, scowled, and moved on. The two men smiled embarrassingly both trying not to arouse the woman's suspicions that something odd was going on. Gordon, tired of Dean's fooling around, decided to make his move.

"Here's what we're gonna do, Dean. You're gonna take a little walk with me over to the elevator, past the security guard without making a fuss. When the doors open, you're gonna step inside keeping yourself between me and Bobby. You got that?"Gordon questioned pressing his weapon deeper into Dean's back.

"Now what have you been sipping lately that makes you think I'd help you kill my brother?" Dean questioned sarcastically hoping somehow that his projected lack of concern in regards to Gordon's plan might unnerve the hunter and make him question it. _1 minute 46 seconds left Damn it!_

"Aw c'mon now, Dean. You know hunters don't drink on the job. Blurs their judgment, slows their reflexes."

"Only if you have judgment and reflexes to begin with," he sarcastically retorted trying to keep his unconcerned façade in place. Dean felt his heart rate increasing exponentially and he had to deliberately slow his breathing so that his anxiety could not be detected by Gordon. His lungs were beginning to cry out for more air.

Gordon didn't like Dean's responses. They were too calm and he knew when it came to Sam's life, Dean was anything but calm. He eyed the elevator. It had stopped, but the doors hadn't opened and he was beginning to grow suspicious.

"Seems the elevator is stuck," he put out paying close attention to Dean's reaction trying to discern the reason for his relaxed demeanor.

"Oh, really? Maybe housekeeping is finally doing its thing. I noticed the floor buttons were a bit smudgy and the carpet needed a good cleaning the other day." Dean quipped sarcastically trying desperately to calm his nerves and lead the hunter away from his elevator theory. _1 minute 24 seconds…c'mon, c'mon!_

Gordon eyed the stairs. Unlike the elevator, they had a continuing run from the third floor of the hospital down through the garage and he began to reconsider the possibilities and the conclusions he had made. Dean remained silent. It was possible Dean had enlisted help. Someone to ride the elevator to the first floor and pause it there, while Bobby and Sam…….

"Now you wouldn't by chance be trying to stall or distract me, would you? Keep me focused on the elevator while Bobby helps poor, sick, suffering Sammy struggle down three full flights of stairs … and you're worried about me torturing the kid. Clever, Dean, very clever, but you're gonna have to do better than that. Sure hope Bobby has a good back."

Dean stiffened, angered by Gordon's callous remarks about Sam's condition, but quickly recovered when he heard the hunter choosing the wrong path.

Gordon detected Dean's initial change in demeanor and figured he was on the right track.

"I wish you'd make up your mind." Dean complained sarcastically hoping to tip Gordon in favor of the stairway. "Which is it Gordy, the elevator or the stairs?" Dean waited anxiously for his decision. _56 seconds, the stairs, damn it, go for the stairs! _

Gordon was annoyed by Dean's mockery. "Nice and easy, let's move to the stairway. You make a wrong turn, and you'll be splattered all over these pretty sterile white floors. I'm not a killer Dean, I'm here for Sammy. You do the right thing, you can walk outta this in one piece. I won't even hold the roadhouse against ya…after all, you were only trying to protect your brother." While Gordon's words were sticky sweet, they were disgustingly vile.

Gordon shoved the weapon in the small of Dean's back and he began moving agreeably toward the stairway. He didn't mind. As long as the weapon was trained on him, it wasn't trained on his little brother.

People passed right and left, so caught up in their own lives that they didn't seem to notice the two men walking as one.

When they neared the security guard by the elevator, Gordon pressed his gun harder against his hostage's back.

Dean moved cooperatively along the hallway as Gordon had directed until they finally reached the stairs. He could feel a wave of relief literally wash over him as he pushed the steel door open and moved through the frame. _four minutes_

Had Gordon turned around, he would have seen the elevator doors open and Bobby and Sam cautiously exit.

Gordon followed Dean through the doorway, glancing up the stairs and then down, looking for any signs of Sam and Bobby. He expected them to be below by now heading for the parking garage beneath the hospital, the first or second level where he knew their vehicles to be.

Just as Dean cleared the door, he grabbed it with his right hand and slammed it back. Gordon, distracted by his temporary glance for Sam, was completely caught off guard. Dean spun around, grabbed the hunter by the shirt, pulled him through the doorway and threw him down the stairs. The brutality of his attack prevented Gordon from shooting and his piece flew out of his hand and clanked several levels below. The door swooshed closed and the officer remained unaware.

**oooOOOooo**

(Bobby and Sam 1st Floor-Hospital)

Having counted out the four minutes after arriving on the first floor, Bobby released the door/close button and readied his piece. The elevator doors opened predictably and the hunter immediately scanned the people before him. Seeing no sign of Gordon, he glanced over by the entrance to make eye contact with Dean wanting an okay before he removed Sam and circled around for the garage elevator.

Dean was no where to be seen.

"Is he there?" Sam questioned nervously from behind, just as he had the floor before.

But unlike before, the hunter remained silent, not wanting to answer the young sibling.

"Bobby! Is he there?" Sam asked worriedly.

Bobby shook his head.

"Oh, no," Sam whispered. "Do you think he's okay? Do you think Gordon got him?" he questioned fearfully.

Sam immediately quieted when three people approached the elevator wanting to get on.

Bobby rescanned, and when he was convinced Gordon was not present, pulled Sam out. He quickly circled around and pushed the button to call the garage elevator.

Both glanced towards the hospital entrance again, but neither could catch a visual on Dean.

"Bobby?" Sam whispered out needing to get an answer.

"Shhhh…steady, Sam," the hunter cooed placing his hand on the frightened brother's shoulder.

Sam quieted, but his mind was screaming out in fear.

After having to be out in the open longer than Bobby had hoped, the elevator finally arrived empty and he and Sam boarded.

Sam tried one last time to crane his neck around in hopes of spotting his brother, but was unsuccessful.

Bobby placed the worried sibling at the back of the elevator, facing forward, moved protectively out in front, and pushed the button for the garage. The anxious hunter quickly scanned the first floor and the stairway door which was just closing, but could not catch a glimpse of Dean. The elevator door finally closed and he dropped his head down fearing for the young man's life.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean and Gordon- Stairway

Dean immediately descended on Gordon who lay sprawled on his back on the landing midway between the first floor and the garage, dazed from his abrupt meeting with the concrete landing. Dean reached desperately to recover his own piece from the man's waist band before the hunter could react.

Gordon, recovering more quickly than Dean had expected, pulled his knee up, placed the bottom of his foot against Dean's chest and forcefully extended his leg.

Dean went flying backward, his back cracked against the unyielding cement steps, forcing the air momentarily from his lungs. Breathless, he still managed to rebound and, using the stairs to push off of, launched himself back at Gordon just as the hunter steadied the gun in his hand. Dean fisted him in the face, snapping his head back, and grabbed for the weapon as Gordon's body arched backwards following his head. Dean wrapped his hand around his weapon, aimed, and pulled the trigger. _Shit._ Gordon had put the safety on. He quickly released the safety and readied to fire.

Suddenly a searing pain shattered his body and ice cold prickles radiated out in all directions. The weapon Dean was holding, fell from his uncontrollable hand.

Dean stumbled momentarily and he searched for the cause of his injury. A handle protruded from him on his right side just below the shoulder. The blade had sliced through both flesh and muscle, stopping just short of the bone. A warm, wet sensation blossomed where the stabbing pain originated.

Gordon, taking full advantage of Dean's momentary shock, made a move for the fallen .45.

As the gloating hunter reached down for the piece, Dean reached down for Gordon.

Using all the strength he could muster, knowing his brother's life was hanging on the outcome of this confrontation, he forced his arms down on the hunter's back, pushing with all his might to hold him there and rammed his knee upwards, over and over, hard against Gordon's chest until he no longer had the strength to continue.

The hunter's body jerked upward four times and Dean heard the crisp sound of his adversary's bones snap within the walls of his chest. Gordon cried out in pain and fell to the floor as Dean kicked the gun away from the hunter. It skidded across the cement spinning, hit the post of the railing and before Dean could react to stop it, fell over the side into the crevasse between levels and clanked down several steps before stopping somewhere below.

Dean stumbled backward, his body reacting to the shock of being pierced by the knife that still remained buried to the hilt in his damaged, bleeding shoulder. Somewhere in the fog of his pain and confusion he heard his cell ring out. He knew it was Sam probably worrying about why he wasn't on the first floor. He looked at Gordon and decided he'd finish him first. He knew Bobby would keep going if he didn't answer. Then he would call his little brother and tell him that Gordon was no longer a threat…. Sam was finally safe.

Gordon lay crumpled on the floor, his right arm wrapped against his broken chest, his left attempting to help him right himself. His mouth was open and gasping for breath as his broken ribs stabbed in and out against the tender insides of his chest.

Dean eyed Gordon. Seeing that there was no way in hell the hunter, in his condition, could do anything to stop Bobby and Sam, or hurt Sam, he allowed himself to sink to the floor to collect the strength he needed to finish him.

The two men paused on the landing between the hospital and the garage, hurting, gasping, and exhausted.

Dean glanced down at his shoulder noticing the crimson hue his shirt was taking on and smiled. It was a small price to pay for his little brother's life. He'd been willing to die if that's what it would have taken to save him. But Gordon had lost this round and was soon to lose his life. Sam was safe. To him, that was all that mattered.

He shifted as a searing pain throbbed in his shoulder and then laughed. He couldn't think of a better place to be stabbed than in a hospital where help was just around the corner, well, technically, just up the stairs. He could take out Gordon, eliminating him from ever being a threat to Sammy again and then go upstairs for treatment. Maybe Dr. Reynolds could patch him up…no questions asked. Dean smiled again….probably not.

Gordon rocked back and leaned against the wall opposite Dean trying to brace himself and get a better handle on the pain that was clearly overwhelming him. Things hadn't quite gone as expected. He had hoped to take out the eldest Winchester and then be the one to kill Sam. Clearly, Dean had done the taking out, and the hunter hated him for it. Still, Gordon was pleased that he had detained Dean long enough to allow his back up plan to come to fruition.

He glanced over at Dean and saw him smiling.

"What's so funny?" Gordon wheezed out barely able to catch his breath.

"You" Dean answered with the knife protruding from his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah? And why is that? From where I'm sitting, you got nothing to be smiling about."

"Sitting, huh? More like laying and soon to be dead if you ask me." Dean sassed as he watched Gordon cough up blood and wipe if from his mouth.

"You don't look so good yourself, Dean."

The two sat in silence for a moment, Dean buying Sam and Bobby additional time to get away while getting up the strength to kill Gordon and meet them at the rendezvous point, Gordon, unable to do anything else but detain Dean.

"You think you won, don't you?" Gordon asked sarcastically, his tone was eerily confident.

Dean, uncomfortable with Gordon's arrogance, decided to push the man's pride to see where it was coming from. He had a gut feeling the hunter was holding a hidden card and he had to know what it was.

"Looks like. I thwarted your sorry ass, didn't I?" Dean boasted nervously, trying to draw Gordon out and reveal what he suspected was trouble.

"Things aren't always what they seem, Dean." Gordon coughed, wiped the blood from his mouth once again and smiled. "You of all people should know that."

Dean glared at Gordon, angered by his reference to Sam. His anger dissolved quickly into concern. He feared the hunter was up to something, but couldn't figure out what it could possibly be. Bobby had checked the vehicles for sabotage and reported them safe, unless Gordon had done something in between the time that Bobby had checked and Gordon's appearance on the first floor. Sam hadn't eaten or been given anything prior to his release that could have been harmful. He'd made sure of that himself. Maybe the hunter was bluffing, toying with him, trying to unnerve him, too arrogant to admit his defeat. If he was, it was working. Dean had to know for sure so he began to dig deeper. He knew Gordon's weakness was his pride and he decided to strike there.

"You're here, probably dying and definitely dead before I leave, if I have anything to say about it. Sam's safe, probably half way to Mexico by now," he added sarcastically while forcing a laugh, trying to annoy his adversary. He secretly prayed to God it was true, at least the 'safe' part. "And there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Seems to me you lost, Gordy."

Dean held his breath, fearing what Gordon's pride would soon reveal.

Gordon looked at Dean. The Winchester's shoulder was awash in blood, beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, his breathing was hitched as he attempted to manage his pain, and his façade of arrogance was clearly just that, a facade. Gordon couldn't resist revealing his brilliant scheme to Dean in a way somehow wanting it acknowledged by the hunter for its flawlessness. Dean's horrified reaction, which he imagined would soon be forthcoming, would be the icing on the cake.

"C'mon Dean, You don't honestly believe your brother made it outta this hospital alive, now do ya?"

Dean struggled to maintain his game face. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about how the hell I was gonna get my own sorry ass out here. You leave Sam's getting out to me."

"I've had six weeks to play cat and mouse with you and Sammy, plotting and planning this hunt. I've covered all my bases. You take me out…… your little brother dies anyways. Your brother is the enemy and just like Andy, he's gonna be taken down."

Dean felt his heart rate double as fear and anger began coursing through his veins. It sickened him how callously the hunter had tossed in Andy's demise as if it was a casual conversation piece, and it infuriated him that Sam was referred to as the enemy. It also scared the shit out of him that Gordon's plans were so calculated, and he began to fear, once again, for his little brother's life.

"You're not taking anyone down. I'm gonna kill your sorry ass!"

Dean took a deep breath and prepared to rise, eager to end the hunter's miserable existence once and for all.

"Oh, you won't kill me," Gordon smoothly put out.

"Oh, really? And why is that?"

"You kill me, you kill Sammy."

Dean froze. The words sent a chill up his spine. Everything inside of him wanted to finish the hunter, but there was more to this than just killing the bastard. Somehow, Gordon had done something to link his brother's life with his own, knowing that the connection would keep Dean from taking his life. He settled back down to the floor, forced by an invisible power that Gordon had over him….his brother's life.

"Now how's that? From where I'm sitting, if you're dead, you ain't around to…...kill him."

"Huh, you gotta a point there, Dean…..that is if I was the only one hunting him."

Dean's heart skipped a beat.

"C'mon, Gordy, you don't think I'm stupid enough to fall for that one, do you?" Dean replied smoothly trying to mask his fear. "I know you work alone. You said so yourself."

"True. And I usually do, but not this time, Dean, not after what happened at the roadhouse. That was ten good hunters you took out, and to be honest, I'm a little pissed."

Dean had to believe Gordon was bluffing, playing with him, trying to squeeze the last bit of venom out of his fangs before he died, because if it was the truth, none of them had prepared for it. Jake had only indicated that Gordon was involved and he and Bobby had planned Sam's escape accordingly. He had to know for sure if there were any others connected to the lynching mob that he'd need to protect Sam from, so he decided to play along.

"I imagine you would be. I would have liked to have been there to see your reaction when you found out your lynching mob was assassinated."

"Oh, they aren't _all_ dead," Gordon corrected with a sneer on his face.

"Okay, I'll give you that, all but one," Dean put out anxiously. "And he'll be reaching for the soap for the rest of his freakin life."

"I wasn't talking about Derek," Gordon smoothly replied, then erupted into coughs that resulted in spattered blood.

Dean froze and studied Gordon's face. While blood dripped incessantly down the hunters lips, most coming from the damage to his lungs from clearly punctured ribs, the hunter was clearly pleased.

"What're you talking about?" Dean questioned trying to keep the alarm out of his voice, the fear off his failing poker face.

"There are four of us," Gordon declared, revealing one of the hidden cards he was holding in his over calculated hand. "While you thought you were distracting me, it was actually me who was doing the distracting, Dean. While you're here shooting the breeze with me, little Sammy's being pumped full of holes in the parking garage…28A or B for that matter."

"Bullshit! I would have heard the shots! And Bobby's too damn good a hunter to let anyone take him. If they exist at all, Bobby will take out your damn partners, and you, you son of a bitch will never hunt again," he growled furiously as he grabbed his cell and speed dialed Bobby to warn him. Gordon continued talking while Dean anxiously waited for Bobby to pick up.

"Bobby's a good guy, don't get me wrong, but he's no match for the others.

_C'mon, c'mon, pick up your damn cell!_ Dean's mind frantically begged.

"The poor bastard will be dead before he hits the concrete. And Sam? Well, he doesn't stand a chance. Tom, in particular, is as good as it gets. He's never failed in a hunt, he enjoys them too much. He's a mean son of a bitch, too, loves torture and slow deaths. Usually shoots his creatures' legs out from under them first, then their arms, then just before they bleed out, he puts a gun to their head…bam! Spattered brains all over the place"

Dean's eyes blackened and doubled in size. His heart slammed against his chest. Ice cold panic spread through his veins, rage burned in his heart.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam and Bobby Garage-Level 1

The elevator doors opened and Bobby, standing protectively in front of Sam, scanned the lot and its sea of cars before him. Sam waited anxiously hidden behind him, desperate for his brother to appear safe and sound. Silence rained for a moment before Sam finally called out.

"Bobby?"

Bobby shook his head and the young hunter's heart skipped a beat.

"Stay here," Bobby ordered as he moved just outside the door, weapon out, to get a visual on the stairway off to the right. The door was closed, the window revealed the well to be empty, and there was no sign of Dean. Bobby rescanned the lot and stepped back in front of Sam. The two remained still and waited.

Sam watched the hunter nervously. The man's silence was deafening.

"Something's wrong," Sam whispered, his voice trembling with fear.

Bobby didn't want to say anything, but he knew Sam was right. Dean's absence from the first floor was disconcerting, but his failure to appear now, was absolutely frightening. The kid should have made it by now. Something was definitely wrong.

Bobby visually scanned the lot again, then moved behind Sam and said, "Let's go."

"No, Bobby!" Sam called out spreading his hands to try to catch the elevator door and hold them in. His shoulder screamed out with the sudden movement, his arms trembling from lack of strength.

"Sam! We gotta go. Now!" Bobby barked, his heart worried for Dean, but terrified for Sam. If Dean wasn't able to stop Gordon, the hunter would be free to take out Sam. Even with a weapon, Sam was in no shape to defend himself. Bobby's commitment to Dean was to get Sam out no matter what, and the old hunter was determined to do exactly that.

"Bobby, please! We have to go back," Sam requested anxiously as Bobby successfully shoved the wheelchair through the doorway. Sam's weakened body could not fight against his strength.

"Sorry, Sam, but we have to go." Bobby whispered, feeling guilty for so easily overpowering the struggling sibling. He continued to scan the lot as he ran the wheelchair towards his nearby truck.

Sam reached his leg out and attempted to rise and stop the forward movement.

His strength was not enough for him to be successful and he flopped helplessly back in the chair.

"Not without Dean, Bobby! Please!" the anguished young man cried.

"Sam, Dean said to get you out, no matter what. He's probably fine. Taking Gordon out as we speak. We'll meet at the rendezvous as planned," he coached hoping the young Winchester would back down.

"No, Bobby, please!" Sam cried as they neared the hunter's old pick up. Bobby slowed the chair down to get ready to negotiate it between his truck and the car beside it and Sam immediately began to struggle to try to get up.

"Sam!"Bobby called out reaching down to grasp the determined man by the shirt and pull him back into the chair. The weak and over exhausted Winchester succumbed to his control.

"Damn it, Bobby, I mean it. Leave me here if you have to. I can wait in the truck. Please!" Sam begged as he fisted his hand in Bobby's shirt and tears stung in his frightened eyes. " I have to know if he's okay… Go back. You have to go back!"

Bobby's cell phone suddenly rang out. Sam instantly quieted waiting worriedly for him to take Dean's call.

The hunter answered just as he became aware of a presence behind him.

"Is everything okay, sir?" a deep voice questioned Bobby from behind.

Bobby turned around…….. and fired.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean and Gordon-Stairway

"Shut the hell up, damn it!"

"Bobby?" Dean called out frantically into his cell as he moved his legs under him to rise. He heard two gunshots before the connection went dead and absolute terror grabbed his heart and threatened to suffocate him.

"Shit, Son of a Bitch!" he called out as an adrenaline rush painfully assaulted his injured body quickly forcing it into overdrive.

Dean placed his hand firmly around the knife's handle that protruded from his body and tried to pull the blade out. He had to end this and get to the garage to help.

A wet, sucking sound indicated that Dean's flesh had somehow bonded with the weapon, but with a second tug, he was able to dislodge it. The pain was excruciating. He felt his world going fuzzy, his vision along with it. He took a deep breath and with fierce determination, he began to focus. He leaned against the wall and pushed himself up with his legs, then staggered over to Gordon and dropped to the floor on his knees in front of the helpless hunter and pressed the blade across his throat. It was the moment he had been waiting for and he anticipated watching Gordon's head fall to the floor beside his lifeless body.

"Uh, uh, uh," the hunter wheezed sarcastically shaking his head as blood continued to drip out of the side of his mouth.

Dean felt himself pause, fearful that if he didn't he might regret it. He hated Gordon and the games the evil hunter seemed to be playing and he was desperate to stop what was taking place in the garage, but he knew he needed to hear the man out as he feared his brother's life somehow still depended on it.

"You kill me, Dean, and maybe you and Bobby stop the hunters...still, your poor little brother will die…. only it will be a slow, painful, death."

"Shut the hell up, damn it!" Dean shouted holding his weapon in his trembling hand as he tried to think. He was torn, desperately wanting to get to the garage, fearing the delay would cost Bobby and Sam their lives, but feeling that if he were to do so, Sam's life would be forfeit somehow anyways.

Gordon delighted in Dean's hesitation and the trump card he had laid on the desperate hunter and smiled.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam and Bobby Garage Level 1

Sam jumped at the sound of the two shots, horrified as he saw the man who had stopped to offer help drop bonelessly to the ground, his blood spilling out of his head like water from a faucet. Bobby kicked the man over and his arm flopped to the side dropping a gun from his slowly releasing fingers.

Sam looked up at Bobby terrified as the hunter stood frozen staring at Sam, who suddenly felt a warm drop of liquid trickle down his forehead. He watched as it dripped in front of his left eye . Sam reached up to wipe the water away and pulled his hand down when he felt a viscous liquid and a searing pain where the fluid fell from. He removed his hand and looked at it. Blood.

"Shit" Bobby declared, carelessly stuffing his cell phone in his pocket as he quickly looked over the injured boy.

"In the truck, Sam, now!" Bobby ordered in a commanding voice as he pushed the chair to the passenger door and locked the wheels. He did not mean to be harsh with Sam, but ,anticipating that there might be other hunters lurking in the lot, he was determined not to allow them to get another shot.

Sam struggled to get up, but his body could not comply.

Bobby grasped the youngest Winchester by his shirt, urgently raised him to the cab and placed him on the seat. He folded his legs beneath him and quickly shut the door.

Sam's uncooperative body began listing as his pounding head laid back against the seat. All he could think about was Dean. He couldn't help but wonder if his brother had been calling for help when Bobby's cell had gone off just before the shots were fired. He tearfully pictured his brother fighting for his life with Gordon. He was not even willing to consider Dean might now be….

"Bob…by?" Sam whispered when the hunter was no longer in sight.

Bobby reappeared on the driver's side, ripped open the door, and hopped inside the truck. He quickly turned the engine over and backed up, dragging the abandoned wheel chair along with it and running over the assassin that lay dead on the cement behind him.

Then he turned the wheel furiously, and gunned the engine. Smoke rose from the friction of the wheels as they spun, a screech echoed through the floors.

Sam's body began to lose its fight with gravity, his mind with consciousness. He tried to call out to Bobby to go back for Dean but he couldn't find his voice. Against his wishes, his lids began to close, eliminating all possibilities for him to implore the family friend to not leave his brother behind.

Bobby took the curves of the parking garage sharply, and Sam began falling sideways towards him. The protective man reached his hand over and gently eased the Winchester down on the seat beside him and attempted to brace him as he flew up and out of the garage onto the street level.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and Bobby heard something smack against the windshield. A small hole appeared with spider like cracks radiating out from it in all directions on the passenger side of the car. While trying to maintain his speed, he frantically scanned Sam's body for signs of a gunshot wound. A hole midway up in the vinyl backing of the passenger seat revealed the shot taken was a miss. Relieved, the hunter immediately gunned the engine peeling off to get as far as he could from the hospital and its sharpshooter.

He headed to the rendezvous point fearing he wouldn't be seeing Dean there no matter how long he waited. Sam was now unconscious or asleep from sheer exhaustion or worse on the seat beside him.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean and Gordon-Stairway

Dean rose up swaying. Grasping the railing, he took the remaining steps to the first floor of the garage and frantically searched through the window for any signs of Sam or Bobby. He couldn't see much because of the angle, but Bobby's truck had clearly left the lot. Sam was in no condition to drive, so Bobby had to have been okay. He could only hope that Sam had left safely with him. Bobby wouldn't have gone if he wasn't.

Relief washed over the hunter and he bent down, resting his hand on his knee while leaning his shoulder on the door for support. He glanced back to look at Gordon. He needed to know what the cruel hunter was talking about. It was the only thing keeping Dean back from drawing his blade across the heinous hunter's exposed neck.

Gordon, slowly suffocating while lying helplessly on the landing just above, noticed Dean's relief and couldn't help but drive his own emotional knife into the younger hunter.

He laughed sarcastically which forced his body into a coughing fit. By the time he had finished, Dean had arrived and assumed his threatening position.

Gordon smiled. "I'm impressed…Bobby's better …than I gave him credit for…still…Sammy's gonna suffer ..(gasp)………..a slow……(cough)…..painful…………….death." he sadistically eased out.

"Why, damn it! Tell me what the hell you're talking about!" Dean shouted out furiously, his voice echoing in the stairway.

"Damned if you do…(gasp)…damned if you don't, huh, Dean…(cough)... Isn't life bitch?"

Dean slammed Gordon in the head and pressed his arm into the hunter's throat. Dean knew the bastard was saying something important, but couldn't for the life of him, figure out what.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean frustratingly questioned feeling like he was entangled in Gordon's little web and trying desperately to figure out where the damn spider was lurking. " Enough with the freakin riddles! Why's he gonna suffer and die, damn it ! TELL ME?!'

"It's no riddle, Dean….(cough)… It means ….(gasp)… If little Sammy…… did miraculously …..make it out of the hospital alive, (gasp) whether you kill me ……or not he'll die shortly after ……from complications. You're damned cuz you can't stop it ……no matter what you do...(cough-gasp) Dean, I've had six weeks to plan this hunt. (gasp) It's flawless. Kid's dead ….no matter what you do."

Dean felt sick, terrified of what the hunter had just revealed. "What kind of complications?" he whispered almost pleadingly.

"Uncontrollable shakes….. tremors…(gasp) ….. excruciating, knife stabbing pain, (cough)….. vomiting so violent …..he'll actually feel his guts…. turning inside out, …(cough)…. convulsions so brutal you'll actually…….be able to hear…your little brother's ribs snap…. …and did I already mention the pain?"

Dean's eyes glistened, his face grew red in rage. He fisted Gordon in the head, shoved his knee further into the hunter's chest pressing the broken bones deeper into his tissues, and held the knife up to his eye threatening to ram it straight through his brain.

"Bastard! What the hell did you do?!!!!"

Gordon winced in pain, coughed and gasped for breath. His head lolled back and forth between his shoulders. His lip bled from where his teeth had been forced through it. He coughed and spewed blood, then raised his hand to feel his lip and smiled. Dean blocked it and pressed his knee once again threateningly against Gordon's chest. Dean waited, wanting so much to kill the bastard, but desperately needing to know what he had done to his little brother.

Gordon looked directly into Dean's eyes and blinked. His eyelashes brushed the bloody blade and took on the viscous liquid as if painted with mascara.

"A little (cough) …(gasp)back up plan, …(wheeze)insurance ..(cough)…I guess you could call it."

"What the hell have you done?!!!" Dean repeated incredulously as his wound began to bleed more with his increased heart rate.

The struggling hunter finally caught his breath and the coughs settled. The wheezing and blood, however didn't and his skin and lips began taking on a grayish color. It was getting difficult for him to speak and his words wheezed out in phrases speckled with gasps and coughs.

"You didn't really think….. (gasp)….Sammy just woke up ……out of the blue today about…hummm …(cough) …say 3 hours ago," he hissed evilly.

Dean looked at the hunter in horror, overwhelmed with shock at the realization that Gordon's plan had been so intricate it included manipulating Sam's chemistry for weeks. He felt as if the air just got sucked out of his lungs. If Gordon had manipulated Sam's chemistry inducing sleep, god knows what else he could have done. His eyebrows furrowed in despair and he struggled to find his voice. "What are you saying?"

"That I did my homework….(wheeze)… Whipped up a little cocktail for the guy….(cough).. Did you know there's a drug ….(gasp)...that can actually mimic ……an unconscious state?... And here's the kicker, Dean….(cough)… It is almost undetectable ….(gasp) …..in the blood stream …..unless you really know to look for it? ….(gasp)…Worked like a charm, too. Kept poor Sammy unconscious.…..right where I wanted him to be …..until I was ready …(cough) and gave me a bonus, too…..cuz…… it tortured the hell out of you," Gordon added with a satisfied smile. (gasp) Only problem with using the drug, though…. (gasp) it's addictive …If you cut it off ….without weaning first,…. it can kill ya."

"Withdrawal?" Dean uttered in barely a whisper as tears of fear began welling up in his eyes. "You're LYING!" Dean growled as his hand trembled with sheer emotion. The blade, still fisted in his quaking hand, touched Gordon's eyelid when he blinked causing a slight cut that drew blood. "You're a hunter, damn it! Where's the thrill in that?!!!"

"You ever ….give an animal….. a fatal shot? It knows it's done for ……so it drags itself off ……to die alone, …..buries itself among the undergrowth ….as its blood drains out …..and its body grows cold. Ahh…..You don't have to follow it, ….(gasp) …to see it die. You can see it….. in your mind …..and there's a satisfaction in that"

Dean found his entire body shaking, visibly trembling as his fear was being realized. Gordon was telling the truth. He didn't care about a hunt or even if he saw Sam die. He had orchestrated his little brother's death and that was enough for the twisted bastard. He was planning to go to his grave, satisfied that he was taking Sam with him.

Dean, desperate to get the name of the drug in the hopes that its revelation could somehow enable him to fix what Gordon had done, lashed out.

"What's the name of the drug, you sick son of a bitch?!"

Gordon smiled as his breath continued to wheeze in and out of him. Dean had finally realized the intricicies of plan in all of its perfection and he was horrified, just as Gordon had hoped he would be.

Dean pelted him, furious at the man's refusal to answer his question.

"WHAT DID YOU GIVE HIM!!

"I'm afraid…(cough)…. your little brother …..in his weakened condition …..won't be able to handle…the withdrawl. It's …ahh! …(gasp)….so sad to think ….of how much he'll suffer …(gasp) before he dies."

"You sick bastard!" Dean hollered shoving his knee into Gordon's chest. He withdrew it and rested it once again on the hunter's damaged chest threatening to ram it straight through to his spine. " I'm done playing your game, listening to your sick stories" Dean's voice echoed through the stairwell. "TELL ME THE NAME OF THE GOD DAMNED DRUG!!"

"This isn't a game, Dean," Gordon callously corrected. "This is war….(cough, ah!) ... No rules….. He's a soldier...(gasp) doing the demon's bidding. (gasp) He had…. to be taken out. (gasp)

"You're the one doing the demon's bidding." Dean moved inches from Gordon's face and spoke in a low, threatening voice. " Last chance! What the fuck did you give him?!!!"

"Sorry….(gasp)….musta slipped my mind... I guess... (cough-blood splatter)…. Can't see to remember…(cough)," the hunter maliciously mocked.

Dean pressed the blade into Gordon's neck and drew blood. It started out as a trickle, but soon became a spray.

"Ahh! (gasp) Go ahead…. (gasp)..You think that ….(choke) will make any difference? I'll never tell you….(gasp) …..Sammy's **dead **….and there's nothing you can do to prevent it."

Gordon's resolve was clear. He was determined to die and take the information with him.

Dean didn't hesitate. He fisted the blade and drew it clean through until he hit bone at the back of Gordon's neck. The hunter's blood bubbled up and over from his open neck like a fountain and cascaded down his lifeless body.

Dean didn't even stop to watch. He frantically grabbed his cell, speed dialed Bobby, and bolted stopping briefly to recover his piece in the well below. He was desperate to get to Sam at the rendezvous, to know if he and Bobby were okay, and to see with his own eyes if Sam was showing any signs of withdrawal. He hoped in his heart that Gordon had somehow made it all up as some sick emotional game, but somewhere deep within him, he feared it was true.

Dean was horrified when Bobby's cell still didn't pick up. He took off in a breathless rage scaling the final stairs to get to the first floor of the garage to look for signs of what might have happened. His heart was pounding, his shoulder ablaze with fire.

Upon his arrival, he froze. The image before him was gruesome. A man lay crushed in a massive amount of blood and a misshapen wheel chair lay beside him, splattered with blood. Dean couldn't tell if the blood on the chair was from its location having been near the man when he had been crushed or if it was Sammy's.

"Oh God!" Dean gasped as he wiped his hand across his face, terrified of what might have happened.

Bobby's truck was gone and he could only hope that Sam was safely gone with it.

Dean dialed Bobby's cell again desperate to get an answer and was startled by the ringing of a cell phone near by. He followed the sound and found the cell under the car that had been next to Bobby's. He realized then, that something was wrong. Bobby wouldn't have just dropped his cell and not bothered to pick it up if he had been successful. He'd left it behind. The question was why.

Dean quickly retrieved the fallen cell and bolted to the stairway, taking the steps three at a time to level B where his car had been purposely placed. He flung the door open and then suddenly stopped, aware that he had forgotten to scan the level first. The hunter drew his weapon and briefly looked across the lot paying careful attention to the spaces between the cars. To his relief, everything appeared clear. He concealed his weapon in his waist band and quickly sprinted to his car.

As he neared his vehicle, he detected movement off to his left. He readied his piece and continued.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me…"

A shot rang out….another misguided hunter was dead.

Dean hopped in the Impala and headed straight to meet Bobby hoping desperately that the hunter and his little brother were both okay.

Tbc

Don't forget my virtual chocolate! I worked hard on this! Drop me a note and let me know what ya think! Rachelly


	10. Fears Confirmed

Previously:

Dean hopped in the Impala and headed straight to meet Bobby at the rendezvous, praying desperately for Sammy to be okay.

**Chapter 10**

Dean frantically searched the roadside, figuring that if Sam had been seriously injured, Bobby might have needed to stop, somewhere along the highway on the way to the rendezvous, to save him.

The blood, spattered on the wheel chair, appeared vividly in his mind. It couldn't be Sam's. It wouldn't be right. Not after Sam had endured the brutal torture of the cruel hunters, and struggled to survive the ambush and the roller coast ride for life that followed in the hospital. It couldn't have ended with his little brother being gunned down in cold blood in a filthy hospital parking lot, alone, without him being beside him, to help or say goodbye.The weary, injured hunter's eyes teared up.

No, it wasn't Sam's blood. Sam was gonna be just fine. Suddenly Gordon's words echoed in his thoughts…Your little brother's dead no matter what you do…insurance…...complications…… Dean wiped his hand across his face and floored the accelerator, unable to stand the distance between him and his little brother any longer.

He felt slight relief when his odometer registered 1.7 miles and there was still no sign of Bobby's truck along the highway. As expected, the exit for the gas station appeared just 2 miles out. Dean raced the car down the ramp and headed straight for the Sam.

When Dean spotted Bobby's truck around the side of the station, he spun the wheel and slammed on his breaks, practically skidding into the back of the hunter's already beat up truck. He threw open his door, leaving the car running, and bolted frantically to the passenger side of the blue Ford Chevy, grabbing the corner of the flatbed to help him swing around the side more quickly. He darted to the door, grabbed the handle, and forcefully ripped it open.

Dean froze in fear, unable to breathe, let alone speak, at the sight before him.

Bobby's medical kit was thrown open on the dash and bloody clumps of gauze were strewn on both sides of it. A bullet hole was visible in the passenger side of the windshield. Spider like lines spread out in all directions threatening to shatter the entire piece of glass, Dean's heart right along with it. Bobby's body was hovering over Sam's, back to him, making it impossible for Dean to see what shape his little brother was in. What he could make out was frightening. Sam was laying face up on the front seat and his little brother was not moving.

"Aw, no," Dean whispered breathlessly as tears stung his eyes.

When Bobby heard the door creak open, he turned around to acknowledge Dean's arrival. His eyes immediately fell on the elder Winchester's bloodied shirt.

"Damn, Dean. Are you alright?"

Bobby reached out to check on Dean's wound. "Jeez, I wasn't sure you'd made it, son," the relieved hunter added.

Dean pushed the old hunter's probing hand away and desperately tried to see past his frame to determine if his world was coming to an end.

Bobby moved to block his view wanting a chance to explain before Dean saw all the blood and panicked.

"Bobby, move!" Dean growled angered by the man's deliberate presence between himself and his wounded sibling. He attempted to push past him.

"Wait, son," Bobby's gentle, but firm voice replied as he put his hands up on Dean's shoulder to stop him. Bobby's hand as painted in blood.

Dean's frantic eyes met Bobby's, laced with desperation and fear. "Is he..?"

"It looks worse than it is," the older hunter explained wanting to be sure Dean understood what he was about to see.

Dean felt himself visibly shaking. "How bad?"

"He's okay, Dean," Bobby tried to assure the panicked sibling. "

The word 'okay' literally unplugged the huge log that Dean felt had wedged itself in his windpipe and the frantic young hunter gasped for a breath of air. He tried to see past Bobby to determine exactly where his little brother had been hurt.

"Bullet just grazed him. He'll be fine."

"Where?" Dean whispered afraid to hear the answer.

Sam, hearing Bobby's exclamation and his brother's voice, called out for him, needing to see with his own eyes that his brother was okay and that Gordon hadn't killed him.

"Dea?"

"Here, Sammy," Dean called. He grabbed Bobby's shirt to get an answer.

"Where's he hurt?!"

"Forehead," Bobby answered.

Dean's eyebrows raised in worry. He took off around the truck to get to Sam from the other side.

"Dean" Sam called more loudly, desperately wanting to see his brother.

Sam heard the driver's side door creak open and his brother's head appeared upside down over his.

Dean did a quick once over and realized why the hunter had wanted to give him fair warning. Sam's face was smeared with blood from his forehead down to his chin and all along the side. It was in his hair, his ear and all over the seat as well. Careful examination revealed Bobby's diagnosis was correct, the source was not life threatening.

He glanced up at Bobby, appreciative of the warning. Had he not known ahead of time, he would have thought for sure his brother had been shot through the head and soon to be dead.

Bobby acknowledged with a nod.

"Jeezus, Sammy. You're a mess," Dean sympathathized. " Man, you scared the crap out of me! I thought you got killed! Don't ever do that to me again, damn it!"

Sam smiled. _Yep, Dean was alive and still kicking._

Sam raised his arm up and placed his hand on his brother's chest needing to make contact to convince himself that Dean was not just there, but okay.

Horror overshadowed his relieved face when his hand felt a warm wetness on his brother's shirt. His tired eyes scanned over and he immediately spotted the blood spread out across his brother's shoulder and down the front of his shirt.

"Dean? Oh, no," Sam whispered fearfully.

Sam immediately tried to sit up and take a better look at his sibling's injured body, but his weakened abdominal muscles and unforgiving shoulder wouldn't cooperate and he winced in pain and started to fall back.

Both Bobby and Dean simultaneously reached out to help him.

"Whoa, slow down there tiger," Dean cautioned as he attempted to resettle Sam back down to the seat.

Bobby changed his gauze pad, tossing the bloody one with the others on the dash, and reapplied pressure on his forehead with the new one.

Sam shifted his arm from Dean to Bobby and fisted the caring hunter's shirt.

"Bobby…m'okay…. help Dean," Sam begged wearily.

Bobby nodded and looked over to Dean, willing to help, but pretty sure the eldest Winchester wouldn't allow it, at least not yet, not while Sam's well being was in question.

"I'm fine, little brother." Dean reached out and patted his shoulder. "Gordon's a lot worse off than me," he reassured, sporting a cocky grin.

Sam released his grip on Bobby and his arm dropped heavily down to his chest. Bobby and Sam glanced up at Dean waiting to hear.

"He's dead." Dean announced. "Seems he lost his head," he added playfully as he shamelessly delighted in the sick man's demise. "Some people just can't take the pressure, I guess."

Both breathed out a sigh of relief, though Sam felt a bit sickened by Dean's cold humor.

That, added to the exhaustion from doing too much only hours from waking from his seven week slumber, and the already sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, finally began taking their toll. He could literally feel himself draining, as if his strength was a liquid trickling down into the seat below him, dripping through the floor of the truck and puddling on the pavement below. Having nothing left, he let go and sank deep into the beige vinyl pickup's seat, his mind sinking along with it, beginning to feel disconnected from the things that were going on around him. Dean was safe. That's all that mattered, right? Plagued with an overwhelming need to sleep, he allowed himself to drift somewhere between awake and asleep, experiencing both, but enjoying neither.

Sensing his deterioration, Dean's instincts took over and he began assessing Sam's condition again. He moved his hand to the gauze that lay soaking up Sam's blood.

Bobby graciously moved out of the way knowing Dean would want to tend his brother.

Dean lifted the bloodied piece of fabric and inspected Sam's new wound. Just as Bobby had said, it was a crease, about an inch long just above his eyebrow. The skin was clearly broken and bleeding a lot, because of its location on Sam's forehead, but there didn't seem to be any indication that the bruise forming just under the surface would cause his brother any additional harm.

Sam remained silent, allowing his brother's inspection, too tired to offer his typical 'I'm fine' brush off.

Dean found the absence of his brother's assurance disheartening and he felt compelled to fill in the words for him, wanting to believe that they were indeed true.

"Sheesh! You're fine. What's all the fuss about, huh? It's just a scratch," Dean teased his little brother trying to perk the kid up a bit. "A few stitches….

_Dean silently cursed himself. Stitches, damn it! Should have figured there could be more than Gordon at the hospital. He'd miscalculated and his little brother once again had to pay the price._

Dean struggled to keep his game face in place.

"A few stitches and you'll be as good a new, not that you were very good to begin with, but what can you do."

Sam's face barely broke a smile as he lay eerily quiet and still.

Dean looked worriedly up at Bobby.

"Concussion?" he mouthed trying not to reveal his concern to his brother.

Bobby shook his head. "Pupils are equal and reactive. He's exhausted, Dean, this was way too much for the kid. We gotta get him somewhere where he can rest."

Dean rested his hand on Sam's shoulder and studied his brother's face as Gordon's words haunted him. His brother's stillness could just be a sign of fatigue….or it could be a sign of withdrawal. Not wanting to say anything in front of Sam until he was sure, he nodded to Bobby in agreement.

"Let's move him into my car once we slow the bleeding. He can lay out in the back and go to sleep. We'll have to wait to stitch until we can get somewhere safe. I want to get out of here as soon as possible."

Bobby nodded and reached for another gauze pad from his medical kit, preparing to offer it to Dean. He was surprised to find the elder sibling repositioning himself.

Assured that Sam's injury was not life threatening and that Sam was comfortable with Bobby tending his wound, Dean turned and settled down behind the wheel of Bobby's truck and rested his head against the back of the seat. He kept his hand on his brother's shoulder and briefly closed his eyes, needing a quiet moment as all that had happened washed over him in the form of complete exhaustion. From the fear of losing his brother, to the shock of being stabbed, to the mind games of Gordon, the threat of another hunter still lurking, and the possibility of Sam's drug dependency, his body begged for release. He searched for it in the darkness that lay hidden just beneath his eyelids, entrusting Sam to Bobby's care for one more momentary hiatus.

Bobby recognized Dean's need, and faithfully continued treating Sam's now clotting wound while keeping watch out the window for any signs of trouble. The truck took on a much needed minute of silence. Sam found his moment in a restless sleep.

Bobby glanced over at Dean admiringly. The kid had given his all and saved his brother's life. John would have been proud. It amused the hunter at just how much Dean was like his dad, having the same passion, the same convictions, the same love for Sam, if not deeper.

He waited a few minutes, allowing the wearied hunter to grab rest and Sam's injury to get to the point of being able to go without continual pressure.

Ten minutes later, he knew it was time to move on. They needed to get Sam to a safe place for rest and recovery and he felt Dean needed to be informed of a few things before they headed out.

"Hey Dean." Bobby spoke out in a soft voice trying hard not to startle him and disturb Sam who continued to float in the fuzzy world that existed between sleep and awareness.

"hmm?" Dean replied sleepily.

"We had some trouble back at the garage. It'll probably be on the news tomorrow," Bobby stated apologetically. "Couldn't be helped. I had no choice."

Dean nodded, already aware, as his mind pictured the gruesome body crushed on the cement floor.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to check on Sam to see if he was asleep. He wanted so much to tell Bobby about Gordon's revelation and the absolute fear that it had inspired, and to have the hunter tell him all the reasons why it couldn't possibly be true, but his brother was still somewhat awake and he didn't want to heap unnecessary anxiety on the kid. He'd had enough for the first 4 hours after awakening from his seven week slumber. The thought of it being drug induced, angered and terrified him. Instead, he would have to wait until he could get to Bobby alone and hope that the hunter could somehow help him fix things, if they needed to be fixed.

Bobby looked at Dean and raised his eyebrows as if expecting more of a response from the hunter after telling him there'd been trouble in the garage.

Dean obliged. "I saw the squished guy, if that's what you mean. That was gross," Dean commentated.

"Great, thanks," the older hunter replied hoping for a little more from Dean. "So how 'bout you? What happened on your end?"

"Well, Gordy got the drop on me on the first floor, lucky bastard, but by some miracle, thought you and Sam were using the stairwell, go figure….and we headed there. We had a fight. Gordon cheated using a knife. We had a sharing, noncaring kind of moment where he laid a load of crap on me, and I sliced his neck clean through to his spine."

"Well, that was descriptive. Thanks, I needed another gruesome image imprinted in my brain," Bobby replied sarcastically.

Dean half laughed, then continued more seriously.

"Gordon told me there were 3 other hunters. I wanted to help you when I heard the shots, but the bastard said he had plans …….."

Dean paused and looked at Sam. The kid was still stirring and he didn't dare say more.

" plans that I needed to know about and it was a bitch trying to get them out of him."

Bobby smiled, amused by the thought that Dean felt compelled to help him. He had been hunting since before the squirt was even born.

"By the time I got there, you two were gone. I did take out one of the hunters on the second level by my car. That accounts for two. So where's the third?"

"There was a sharpshooter on the street outside the garage. Asshole dinged my shield," Bobby added.

"That's three."

"And he's still unaccounted for," Bobby added, disappointed that he hadn't been able to do anything about the hunter but get out of his way.

Both men suddenly looked around. Each felt compelled to check outside for signs of trouble. Finding none, they returned to their conversation.

"Did you get a look at him?" Dean questioned hopeful that Bobby could recognize the guy if he were to show up.

"Didn't see him, but I can tell you this, he's a damn near perfect shot. I came flying out of the garage bouncing and swerving all over the place and still the bastard nearly took out Sam. If he hadn't been laying down…." The hunter paused and shook his head.

Dean knew what he was unable to say.

"Jeez, we're damn lucky to have gotten out of there alive," the older hunter concluded.

Dean nodded and the two hunters paused.

Dean rechecked Sam's wound and decided he was good enough to be moved. He looked up at Bobby and stilled.

The older hunter smiled and tilted his head. He could tell Dean had something to say and was trying to get up the nerve to say it. Knowing Dean had trouble sometimes opening up, Bobby looked down at Sam so as not to be staring at the soon to be expressive Winchester.

"Hey Bobby?"

"Yeah?" Bobby replied lifting his gaze back to Dean and trying to sound surprised.

"Thanks man. You really laid down your life for me and Sam back there. I don't know how I can ever repay you for what you did."

"Son, you and your brother being alive? That's payment enough. Trust me! Besides, I owed your daddy a few so we'll consider it even, okay?"

Dean smiled warmly at the hunter before him. He was a good man and a faithful friend.

Sam lay blinking slowly, not really looking at anything, not quite asleep, yet not really attempting to interact or track the conversation either.

Dean glanced down concerned. "Hey Sammy? You doing okay?"

Sam didn't respond and seemed unaware that his brother had even called his name.

"Sam?" the two hovering hunters called out in unison.

Sam slowly turned his gaze towards his brother's voice.

"Hmm?"

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Don't ff eel so ggood," Sam spoke in barely a whisper as he suddenly shivered and looked at Dean with needy eyes.

Bobby looked up at Dean whose face was clouded in worry. He seemed almost paralyzed by his brother's revelation.

"Dean," Bobby called out to catch the sibling's attention.

Dean sniffed and looked up at Bobby.

The older hunter cocked his head and looked at him. Something was hidden in his eyes, something troubling enough to have distracted the normally over responsive brother from his younger sibling's cry for help.

When Dean remained absorbed in whatever was consuming him, Bobby decided to step in.

"We need to get him warm. Crease has clotted. Let's get him into your car and get on the road."

Dean nodded and looked back to his brother sympathetically. The only way he could keep going without his fears paralyzing him was to put on his game face, so he slipped the familiar, well worn mask out of his pocket ,where he always kept it for quick access, and he swiftly secured it in place.

"You think you can do this, Sammy? Ditch this dump and move to my incredibly cool car?"

"Hey, watch it!" Bobby playfully warned the elder Winchester, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. The mask might be in place, but the dear family friend could still see the hunter's tortured eyes. He decided to honor Dean's choice for silence for the moment and played along. "This trucks a classic! Been 'round longer than you have. Show some respect, boy!"

The playful banter was lost on the one it was aimed to cheer.

Sam nodded, willing to move even though he had no idea how he could sit up, let alone make it to his brother's car.

Dean gently slid his hands under his brother's shoulders and lifted him upwards into a seated position. "Up ya go."

The elder Winchester winced as the movement caused a searing pain in his damaged shoulder. He shifted Sam's weight to his left hand and reduced the movement on his right side. Damn, the stitching was gonna hurt like hell and the shoulder would be a bitch in the morning.He only hoped that would be the worst of his worries.

Bobby steadied Sam as he sat shivering and dizzy from the quick change in posture.

Dean hopped down out the truck and negotiated around to the passenger side. He replaced Bobby who went to get the keys from Dean's ignition and grab some blankets from the trunk of the Impala.

Dean slipped his arms in and around his brother, hugging him to his chest as he attempted to slide his sibling forward and off the seat, into a standing position. Sam's head fell forward and rested on his brother's shoulder. He shivered in his arms.

"Easy there, kiddo. Nice and slow. We'll get ya warmed up soon enough," Dean promised as he analyzed his brother's trembling trying desperately to determine if the kid was just exhausted, chilled from the shock of the day or the crease, or starting the early stages of withdrawal. If he were honest with himself, he already knew which one it was, but his heart was unwilling to deal with the truth that was directly in front of him.

Sam struggled to stand. His leg complained beneath him and he couldn't help but gasp.

"I know. I know. Easy, Sammy," Dean offered feeling sorry to have to put the kid through this. "Try to put your weight on me."

"Nnno, Dean," Sam shivered out. "I dddon't want to hhhurt your shshoulder."

"I'm good, man. C'mon," the older sibling insisted.

Sam nodded and transferred some of his body weight to Dean, unable to manage all of it on his own. He still tried to carry some of it.

With Dean's help, he finally managed an upright position.

Bobby threw the blankets in the back seat and ran over to help Dean assist the overly exhausted and chilled Winchester into the back seat of the Impala.

After much organizing and reorganizing, the two were able to arrange Sam comfortably, and they buried him in blankets.

Dean patted Sam twice on the back . "Try to get so me rest, Sammy. Okay? We're gonna head out and find a good place for you to get better."

Dean rested his hand on Sam's back and paused. He wished his little brother was well, riding shotgun in the seat beside him, not curled in a ball, sick and injured on the back seat of his car. He wondered if Sam might want to be in the front seat beside him as well.

"You gonna be okay back here by yourself?" Dean questioned gently.

Sam nodded and grasped the edges of the blankets and pulled them in tightly, snuggling his head beneath them hoping to claim the warmth that they promised.

Dean paused and looked down over Sam, a world of worry spun in his eyes, and then turned and closed the door.

Within seconds, his game face dropped uselessly to the pavement below him, making visible the pain that was burning a hole down deep in his heart.

"Bobby, I need to talk to you."

Bobby nodded, still looking at Sam. He expected they'd need to go over the next part of the plan and he turned to face him. He was surprised to find the young hunter's mask had been taken off, and raw emotions staring back at him.

"I think Gordon strung Sam out on something," the young hunter anxiously revealed with a quiver in his voice.

"What? Why would you think that?"Bobby interrupted disbelievingly, glancing back at Sam to evaluate him from that perspective.

"….when Sammy was in the hospital. Remember those plans I said I had to get out of Gordon? Bastard claimed he'd been drugging Sammy, keeping him unconscious for weeks. Said the stuff's addictive and that without the shit, Sam's gonna go through withdrawal. Called it his backup plan, insurance, if the hunt wasn't successful."

"God, Dean, I hope not. Withdrawal isn't a pretty scene and Sam's in no condition to ride it out, it could…." Bobby hesitated, not wanting to finish the thought out loud with Dean's heart already bleeding.

"kill him. I know."

"Do you think he was lying? Trying to scare the crap out of you? Gordon's was snake. I wouldn't put it past him."

"Maybe, but if you had seen his eyes and the details that he gave, and now Sam. Gordon knew he was dying and he was satisfied with how things had turned out.

"Did you get the name of the drug from him? Maybe we could get some and wean him off ourselves."

"No, damn it. I tried, but the bastard took it to his grave!" Dean lamented angrily.

Bobby put his hands on Dean's shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. "It's okay, son, it's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out. You and me. We're not gonna let anything happen to Sam, alright. If he's addicted, we'll get him through it."

Dean looked worriedly through the window at Sam. His brother's body lay blanketed on the seat trembling.

"Did he say anything else, anything that could give us a clue about what we're dealing with?"

Dean nodded. "Said Sammy'd be in pain……," he stated sadly, his voice cracking, eyes tearing.

He looked up at Bobby.

" Violently sick, with tremors and convulsions, and ……that he'd die."

Dean put his head between his hands, then swept them down across his face. He sniffed and then glanced worriedly over at Sam who lay shivering.

"It's already starting, Bobby. He said he feels sick," Dean whispered defeatedly.

"Alright, "the older hunter acknowledged, "It's alright." Then took a deep breath and sighed. "We'll keep a close watch on him, okay Dean? If he gets any sicker, we'll get him help."

"We can't get him help! That's the first place they'll be looking for him!"

Bobby wiped his hand across his face, his mind was busy considering the possibilities. Dean was right. If it were he hunting Sam, medical facilities would be the first place he'd check. He and Dean were going to have to help Sam on their own.

"We need to know more about the drug that was used. Can you call Reynolds and see if he can help us? He might be able to figure out the drug or at least give us an idea what to expect and how to help Sam through it. He told you to call him if you had any questions," he added with a smile.

"Not sure that's the kind of question he had in mind, but you're right. He can at least let us know what to do to help Sammy."

Bobby slapped Dean on his arm, pleased to see the boy rallying a bit, rather than defeated, and knowing there was another important issue that had to be dealt with.

"Ouch, dude. Watch the shoulder!" Dean barked out.

Bobby smiled, glad the kid had finally admitted he was hurt. "Thought you said it was fine," he stated deliberately. "You know ya need to take care of that," he added knowing full well it was pointless to even suggest it until Sam was bedded down, safely, in a hotel somewhere inconspicuous.

Dean grabbed his shoulder. "Just a scratch, I'm …..

"…fine. I know." Bobby finished. "The blood on your shirt says otherwise."

"Not now, we gotta get Sammy safe. There's still another hunter out there."

"And you won't be very good at protecting your brother if you're flaming sick from an infection or lose the use of your arm!" the older hunter gruffed out.

"Once he's safe, I promise, I'll let you take a look at it, okay?" Dean offered attempting to compromise.

"No. now. You'll be no good to your brother if you lose consciousness and crash the car with him in the back seat. You'll get yourself killed and your brother, too!" Bobby felt badly using Sam to manipulate Dean into accepting help, but he knew it was the only way to reason with Dean. "Now, let me take a look at you!"

"Fine. A quick look. Damn, did anyone ever tell you you're demanding?" Dean groused out, though inwardly it felt good to have someone look after him for a change.

Dean stood still while Bobby took a look at his wound.

"Man, Dean, you need some serious stitching. Straight edge?"

"Yeah"

"Well, at least it will be easier to stitch," Bobby added trying to think of something positive to say. The wound was deep and he wasn't thrilled about stitching muscle. He usually did shallower repair work. He pulled the wound apart slightly, trying to gage its depth."

"Ouch! Damn it, Bobby. Don't ever become a nurse!"

"I know, hands aren't cold enough, right? S'why I've stayed a hunter."

"Pff." Dean laughed amused by the hunter's humor. "Damn it, I can't believe the bastard knifed me."

"Let me get the peroxide and I'll clean up and patch. We'll stitch you and Sam at the motel."

Bobby moved towards his truck to get his first aid kit. He didn't have many gauze pads left, but he would have to make do.

"Not now, we gotta get Sammy safe."

Bobby stopped and turned around, shaking his head at his stubbornness. When it came to Sam, Dean didn't always think straight.

"Are you sure you're even up to driving? You feelin' woozy or light headed?"

Dean looked at Bobby and rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine" they spoke in unison, Dean to brush off Bobby's attention, Bobby to mock Dean's stubbornness.

Dean smiled, amused by Bobby's keen understanding of him and how he works.

Bobby nodded, knowing it was pointless to argue with the determined man when his little brother's life was involved.

"Then we're doing it as soon as we get there!" Bobby announced to the wind which seemed to be the only thing absorbing his words at the moment.

Dean glanced at Sam again, opened his hand for his keys which Bobby promptly returned, and then opened his door.

"Want me to ride in back with him?" Bobby offered knowing Dean was concerned.

"Need ya to shadow us. Stay back far enough that you can keep watch for a tail. The sharpshooter's still out there."

Bobby nodded. "Where're we heading?"

"North," the eldest Winchester declared nonspecifically and he slide in behind his wheel.

Bobby smiled. He knew exactly what Dean meant, being a hunter himself. Dean would know where to stop when he got there.

The two started their vehicles and as planned, Dean took off first, Bobby shadowed behind him.

oooOOOooo

As soon as Dean merged onto the highway, he reached for the papers he'd recovered from the fallen wheel chair's pouch that Reynolds had given him and, finding the hospital number on one of the forms, dialed.

"Can I speak to Dr. Reynolds?"

"One moment please" the over practiced nasal voice replied.

Dean waited nervously and glanced at his sleeping brother in the back seat. Sam was curled slightly in on himself with the blankets tightly wrapped around him. He appeared to be still, not shivering at all. Dean was relieved. At least the symptoms weren't continuous yet. They had a long ride ahead of them and he didn't want his brother to suffer in the back seat alone.

"Dr. Reynolds here"

"Hey, Doc, it's Dean."

"Hey, Dean. How's my favorite patient doing?" the warm familiar voice questioned.

"Ah," Dean wasn't sure where to begin. "He's sleeping right now."

"Good. He needs a lot of rest. Sounds like you're off to a good start."

A good start wasn't exactly how Dean would have described Sam's situation. He was shot in the head and probably entering withdrawal. Definitely not the 'good start' Sam deserved or Dean had hoped to give him.

The doctor waited for a response and was surprised when he didn't get one.

"Dean? Is everything alright? Sam's not complaining of any pain or trouble breathing is he?"

"Are you someplace where you can talk?" Dean questioned seriously.

"Yes, I'm in my office at the moment. Why? What's this about?"

"I need to ask you a couple of questions and I need you to hear me out."

Dean glanced in his rearview and made a visual on Bobby's truck.

"Of course, Dean. Go ahead."

"Of all the drugs that hospitals use to put their patients in comas, which one is addictive? Dean held his breath as soon as the question escaped his lips. He hoped that there was only one and that Reynolds knew exactly which one it was.

"I'm not sure I understand your question, Dean. Hospitals use many different drugs to induce comas, but none of them are addictive. Why do you ask?"

"What? Are you sure?" Dean questioned incredulously.

"Yes. Hospitals discontinued using them because of their addictive properties and the negative affects they were having when patients were taken off them."

Dean let out the breath that he was holding as a wave of relief washed over him. The news was too good to be true and so much better than he had hoped for.

"Son of a bitch! Gordon was lying. I'll be damned," Dean declared aloud.

"Pardon?"

Just to be sure, he reiterated the doctor's answer. "So there are no coma inducing drugs that are addictive," Dean restated anticipating the doctor's confirmation.

"I didn't say that. There are coma inducers that are addictive, but hospitals don't use them anymore because of their addictive properties. They might still be used in rare situations in special care facilities."

Dean's heart skipped a beat before jumping into over drive.

"How are they given?" he questioned anxiously as Gordon's threat once again became a flaming reality.

"They're administered intravenously. Why? What's this about, Dean?"

Dean ignored his question. His heart was beating furiously in his chest, his lungs begging for more oxygen to meet the demand of his body's heightened sense of panic.

"If a patient was on this drug for say three or more weeks and then it was just stopped, what would happen?"

"Dean, I can assure you. I would never have used a drug like that on Sam. It would've been both foolish and reckless!" the doctor rebuffed defensively.

"Doc, hear me out. I think someone may have given Sam a drug like that while he was in the hospital. It would explain why he was unconscious for so long when he should have been awake."

"Wha? Wait. Here at the hospital? No, I supervised his medications, myself. Everything he received was by my order. The hospital has very specific rules and regulations on the handling of medicines. No, no one could have. I don't see how it would be possible. And why on earth would anyone do that to Sam, of all people, in the first place? It makes no sense."

Dean paused, unsure of how much to reveal. After trusting the doctor with Sam's life the past 7 weeks, seeing his commitment to Sam's well being, he felt he could go on.

"Dean?"

"Some very bad people are trying to kill Sam."

"What? Who? Are you talking about the people that hurt him originally? I thought it was a robbery. Are you saying they were trying to kill your brother?!"

"Yes" Dean answered directly, not at all surprised by the doctor's reaction. The idea was absolutely absurd to Dean as well.

"But I thought they were all killed. I heard it on the news. Well, I think one got arrested, but the rest were killed."

"There are more," Dean eased out, the truth of which both angered and horrified him.

"More? You can't be serious. Why are they trying to kill Sam?"

"It's a long story."

"Does any of this have to do with what happened here at the hospital, just after you left?"

Dean stiffened his lip, but did not respond.

"Dean?"

Dean did not know if he wanted to admit his involvement and possibly lose the doctor's help, or deny it and lose the doctor's expertise by keeping valuable details from him that might affect his ability to help save Sam. The doctor chose the path for Dean.

"Three people are dead, one was shot, one run over, and some are saying the third had his head practically cut off. Were these people after Sam? Oh my god, did you kill them?"

"Listen to me. They tried to kill my brother. I had no choice. I swear to you."

"You have to turn yourself in, son. The police will be looking for you. Return Sam to the hospital. I can take care…."

"No, you can't. That's the point. These guys will stop at nothing to kill my little brother. They got to him once and they can get to him again and I will do whatever it takes to stop them. Can you understand that?"

"What about the police? Can't they help you protect Sam?"

"No, no one can. That's why I have to. Please, you need to believe me. We need your help."

"This is beyond me, Dean. I need to think."

" Doc, you know me well enough to know I'm not a murderer. And you know how much I love my brother. I did what I had to do to protect him. I swear! Please, you've gotta help me help Sam."

The doctor paused. He knew in his heart Dean wasn't a murderer. In the past seven weeks he'd seen his heart, laid open, and there wasn't anything vicious or cruel in the man. There was even less doubt that he loved his brother. He couldn't explain it, but he believed him and he felt compelled to help. Sam seemed like a good kid and there was no question the men at the robbery or whatever it was were bad. If they were after Sam, he wanted to help.

"Doc, please"

"What do you want me to do?" Reynolds hesitantly replied.

"Say nothing about what happened at the hospital. Anything you say, even to the cops, will aim the guys who are after Sam in his direction."

"Okay."

"I need to know how to help Sam."

"Dean, if Sam has a drug dependency….."

"Withdrawal….I know."

"Drastic chemical changes to a body's physiology and in his condition… Let's just say things could get really rough for your brother. He needs to get to a medical facility."

"No, they could find him and do worse."

"Dean, he's barely recovered and extremely weak. Depending on his reaction to the dramatic change in body chemistry, he could go into a coma, cardiac arrest or worse, Dean, he could die."

"He could die from being out in the open in a medical facility. I have to keep him hidden for now."

"Please, just tell me, what can I do to help him?"

"It depends on which drug he was administered. The withdrawal symptoms vary depending on the drug."

"Do you have any of Sam's lab work? You could check to find out which one was used?"

The lab results are specific to my requests. I never requested him to be tested for those. I shouldn't have needed to. The lab technicians wouldn't have been looking for them."

"Then how the h…how can I help him?!"

"I can give you a general idea of what to look for and what to expect based on the category those drugs fall into. Their side effects and withdrawal symptoms would be similar."

"Okay, shoot"

"The drugs are categorized as psychoactive which means they alter the cognitive processes, suppress brain activity. The withdrawal symptoms of these types of drugs tend to peak between 24 and 36 hours."

"What does that mean?"

"They'll come on slowly, build to intensity around 24-36 hours after the drug has been eliminated, and then wind down. There can still be symptoms for a week or more afterward, but they would be mild in comparison and diminish over time."

"So what are the symptoms," Dean asked certain he didn't want to hear the answer.

"They're flu like at first. He could experience anything from chills, dizziness, nausea, sweating, and muscle pain to name a few. During the peak, the symptoms can include vomiting, shaking, tremors, seizures and convulsions. Dean, even if you work with him at home, he's gonna need medical assistance."

"Like what?"

"Intravenous fluids to prevent dehydration, pain medication, individuals trained to handle seizures and convulsions."

"I can do the fluids and we already have pain medication. What do you do for seizures and convulsions?"

"The pain medication I gave you is oral. If he is addicted, he'll be too sick to keep thing down. He needs pain management assistance; injections, breathing techniques, ways to work through the pain.

Discussing Sam's need to handle and work through pain was gut wrenching. Dean paused trying to find his voice. "I can handle that. I know what do."

"Okay….." the doctor paused, somewhat alarmed that Dean was familiar with pain management and pain injections.

"What about the seizures and convulsions? What should I do if he runs into that shit…I mean stuff."

"Keep him on his side, it prevents him from suffocating if he vomits, and keep him away from anything he could hurt himself on. Keep his head down, jaw extended so that he can't choke on his tongue. Intertwine his legs for stability and help him ride it out and whatever you do, don't put anything in his mouth. More people suffer injuries from idiots stuffing things in their mouths than from the seizures themselves. There are several kinds of seizures from mild ones that last only a few seconds where a person just looks kind of dazed and out of it, to severe ones that last over 5 minutes and can result in cardiac arrest. Basic rule to follow is if it's 5 or more minutes, call 911 immediately."

Dean felt sick. He could barely breath, let alone think. He glanced back as Sammy, who had begun to shiver once again. God, hadn't the kid suffered enough. The thought of his little brother, lying on his side, struggling not to choke or suffocate, in agonizing pain while he counted out the minutes trying to decide when to call 911 was overwhelming.

"Dean?"

"Dean, are you there?"

"Ah, yeah," Dean whispered, "I'm still here."

"Has Sam shown any withdrawal symptoms yet?"

"He's exhausted, got chills and he's shaking. Said he feels sick."

"Exhaustion is to be expected in Sam's condition., but sickness, unless he picked up an illness here at the hospital, can be the onset of withdrawal. Is he running a fever? He could have an infection."

"No. I checked. No fever."

" My guess is he's about five, maybe six hours into it, based on the time he woke up. Keep track and watch for the 23-36 hour peak. That will be the worst part of it. I'm sorry, Dean. I know this is overwhelming for you and I can't imagine how Sam feels about it. Are you sure you don't want to bring him in. We could post guards outside his door."

"Sam doesn't know yet. I wasn't gonna say anything until I was absolutely sure. He's been through enough already. And armed guards can't be trusted to protect my brother. Only I can."

"I wish there was something more I could do or say to make everything alright. You boys don't deserve this kind of trouble and I hate to think of Sam suffering."

Dean couldn't agree more. Sam didn't deserve this, none of this.

"Thanks, Doc."

"I'll do some research here, see if I can get any more information for you. Call me if I can do anything else. I get off in 6 hours and can come to you if you needed me to. I can look him over, bring supplies if needed, even call in sick and stay with you to try and help him get through it okay?"

Dean was touched by the doctor's concern and willingness to help his brother. Everything inside of him wanted to ask him to come, everything except his gut.

"I appreciate that, Doc. but you need to stay away. The people after Sam are probably watching you, expecting me to make contact with you and I don't want you to take any chances. Make sure you don't let anyone know you are still involved with us, not nurses, doctors, anyone. Someone there at the hospital had to have been helping drug Sam."

"You think one of my staff is involved?" the doctor questioned incredulously. "I know these people. I can't imagine any of them being involved in this!"

"Yeah, well, I don't know how else it could have been done."

"If I can come up with any more information, how can I reach you?"

"You can't. I'll call you."

"Let me know how things are going. Tell Sam to hang in there."

"Thanks, doc."

Dean hung up his cell feeling empty, alone and scared. He glanced back at Sam, noticing that his brother had turned around somewhere during his conversation with the doctor. His face was sweaty and pale, and he was clearly shivering, almost trembling.

He knew he needed to tell Sam what was going on and he dreaded it. How do you tell your kid brother, just after he had his life practically beat out of him for a destiny he even feared himself, that he was about to go through hell again for hours because of it. Dean felt the tears that had been threatening to fall, cascade once again down his face. He had to tell him. Sam needed to know, to understand the sickness that was growing inside of him, building into a life threatening situation. The question remained. How? Dean couldn't for the life of him think of what he would say.

He reached back his arm and tried to tuck an open corner of Sam's blanket back under his leg, knowing that the additional warmth it offered would be minimal, but he had to feel like he was able to do something, anything to help his brother. He was feeling so helpless.

He glanced up at the rearview mirror. Sure enough, Bobby's truck followed at a distance. He began to get that feeling he'd been waiting for. The one where you know you've removed yourself from immediate danger and it's time to seek refuge. Dusk was coming and soon it would be dark; it would be a lot harder to distinguish if the lights following were Bobby's or someone else's.

He started scanning highway signs to look for a place to stop and take care of his soon to be suffering little brother.

Tbc

Chocolate please….. Rachelly


	11. Refuge

_Author's Note/Apologies: "fff" or any other double letters that seem out of place are supposed to indicate that poor sick Sammy is shivering while he talks. Couldn't figure out how to spell the shivering whisper sound you make when you talk. My spell checker had a heart attack with all my double letters, so there may be a few real misspellings that went unnoticed.Sorry!_

_Author's Suggestion: Keep repeating to yourself, "This is NOT a death fic," and you'll be just fine! Come on, say it with me….. This is NOT a death fic. Great! Now enjoy!_

**Previously**

Dean hung up his cell feeling empty, alone and scared. He glanced back at Sam, noticing that his brother had turned around somewhere during his conversation with the doctor. His face was sweaty and pale, and he was clearly shivering, almost trembling.

Dean reached back his arm and tried to tuck an open corner of Sam's blanket back under his leg, knowing that the additional warmth it offered would be minimal, but he had to feel like he was able to do something, anything to help his brother. He was feeling so helpless.

He glanced up at the rearview mirror. Sure enough, Bobby's truck followed at a distance. He began to get that feeling he'd been waiting for. The one where you know you've removed yourself from immediate danger and it's time to seek refuge. Dusk was coming and soon it would be dark; it would be a lot harder to tell if the lights following were Bobby's or someone else's. He started scanning highway signs to look for a place to stop.

**CHAPTER 11**

Two hours and two states over, Dean finally exited the highway, having gotten that sense of safety he was searching for. Sam had woken up once and called out for his brother, confused as to where he was and why he was in the back seat. Dean was grateful he was able to calm his sibling and resettle him to be able to make it the rest of the way.

After searching a bit, he found a small, somewhat secluded motel, and asked Bobby to go sign in using a fake credit card.

The sky had darkened as night had finally pushed its way across the heavens forcing the last few rays of the sun beneath the horizon. A cool dampness seemed to creep in behind the darkness and blanketed the two Winchesters who waited silently in the car.

Dean turned around to once again check on Sam who had been sleeping the last leg of the trip. To his surprise, he found two hazel eyes blinking back, studying him.

"Hey" Dean pinged.

"H-hey" Sam echoed softly with sympathetic eyes as his body trembled beneath the navy woolen blankets. "You okkkay?" he shivered out as he took in his brother's tired, pale complexion. Sam felt badly. Dean had done so much trying to protect him and then, in the end, gotten hurt and had to drive for hours to get his sorry self to safety.

Dean was moved by Sam's concern. The kid had every reason in the world to be self absorbed, yet, in his typical Sammy style, was worrying about his big brother.

"A hell of a lot better than you, kiddo," he replied sympathetically.

Sam offered a slight smile and then shivered. His shoulders hunched and he curled in, pulling the edge of the blanket, held firm in his fist, closer.

"How 'bout you?"Dean questioned casually; his intent was anything but casual.

Reynolds had said the symptoms would be flu-like in the beginning and build in intensity to a 24-36 hour peak. Sam was well into the first stage by at least nine hours and possibly as close as twelve to fifteen hours away from passing through the gates of hell and into its fiery wrath.

"Think I'mm ggetting s-s-sick," Sam shivered out. His voice and speech were broken from the severity of the trembling he was now experiencing.

Needing to know where Sam's symptoms fell on the count down to hell, Dean decided to press further.

"Yeah, why's that?"

"I'm c-c-cold, kkind of achy and m-my sstomach feels s-s-sick. C-can't sseem to s-stop shakking."

Dean nodded sympathetically. Sam was not one to complain, whine emotionally from time to time, yes, but complain of physical discomfort, rarely. For him to say he was feeling sick, meant the kid was flaming ill. _Damn_.

"W-where are w-we?"

"Motel. Bobby's getting a room."

"Wwwant one with a wwarm whirlpool bbath," Sam shivered out with a grin.

"Yeah. I bet. You want me to get your rubber ducky out of the trunk?" Dean teased trying to lighten the 'growing desperately darker by the minute' scenario that was playing out.

"Pff" Sam laughed. "Bbite mme."

Bobby suddenly appeared and tapped on the window. Dean obliged and cracked it, not wanting to allow the cold, damp air to have a shot at his already shivering sibling.

"How's he doing?" Bobby questioned when he saw Dean had been checking Sam.

"He's awake. Said he's feeling sick…achy," Dean reported sadly.

Bobby acknowledged with a sympathetic nod and leaned over to wave at Sam through the back window. Then he returned to Dean .

"Room 202, second floor, round back," Bobby said handing Dean the room key through the Impala's slightly rolled window.

Dean nodded. Safer and more secluded. It was exactly what he would have chosen himself. Second floor is easier to guard and protect from intruders. The back, makes it harder for someone to find, and allows more privacy.

"Stairs or elevator?" Bobby questioning knowing that neither was the best.

If they took Sam in the elevator, because of its location by the front desk, they'd be seen by the manager, who was doing the check ins. After the missing sharpshooter would have checked all medical facilities looking for Sam, he'd begin scoping motels, and the first person he'd ask would be the one behind the desk. They needed no witnesses. The stairs around back were less likely to be viewed, but dragging the poor kid up a flight wasn't exactly favorable either. Still, the darkness would conceal their activities.

"Stairs," Dean decided quickly. Let's get Sam in, then park. I'll take the lot next door, you go further out."

Bobby nodded knowing that their cars would be another dead give away to their presence if anyone was looking.

Dean and Bobby headed around back. Bobby initially parked while Dean pulled the Impala right up to the sidewalk by the steps.

Bobby appeared just as Dean got out.

"How do you want to do this?" the elder hunter questioned giving Dean the reins.

"He's too weak to walk, and it's too damn painful for him anyways. We're gonna have to carry him."

Bobby nodded as Dean opened the back door and rested his hand on Sam's arm.

"We need to get you upstairs in bed, okay?"

"D-Dean," Sam whispered, "I d-don't think I c-can mmake ittt."

The words were painful to hear. Sam was always willing to try. No matter what the kid was facing, no matter how stacked the odds were against him, he always gave it his best shot. But Sam was admitting defeat before they even got started and Dean's heart just couldn't handle it.

"Yes you can! You absolutely are gonna make it! You hear me!" Dean harshly proclaimed more for himself than for Sam."

A gentle hand on Dean's shoulder reminded him of his need to go slow and calm down. Sam needed encouragement, not harsh shouted, fearfully based orders.

Dean took a deep breath and released it along with some of the anxiety that had built to an intolerable level inside. Bobby was right. His outward show was not going to help his brother.

Sam was startled by Dean's adamancy and clearly recognized his brother's need for him to try.

"Okkay," he willingly complied and he tried to slide off the woolen blankets and push himself up off the seat. His whole body seemed to moan with the movement and the removal of the blankets suddenly allowed the cold night air to rush him. He began shivering uncontrollably and he felt like he'd throw up. Still he pressed on. Dean wanted him to.

Dean crawled in and wedged himself between the back of the front seat and the bench Sam was struggling on. He assisted his brother into a sitting position and quickly adjusted the blankets over his shoulders when he saw Sam shivering uncontrollably.

"That's it," he coached as he move in behind his back so Sam could lean against him to stay up. He slid his arms through Sam's and locked them around his chest, hugging his back.

Bobby stood by helplessly, waiting for Sam's body to appear far enough out of the car for him to be of any assistance.

"Okay, kiddo, you ready?"

Sam managed a nod and braced himself.

Dean pulled, trying not to put too much pressure on Sam's healing ribs. He struggled to push past the pain that burned in his wounded shoulder that couldn't seem to manage the demand he was placing on it. Dean negotiated as best he could to get enough use out of the arm to slide his brother to the door and far enough out for Bobby to grab his legs.

The blankets fell to the ground and Sam began trembling. His head rested against his brother's chest, his arms hung loosely at his sides. Bobby stood between his legs holding his bent knees being careful not to jostle his barely healed thigh.

"Uh, ah," the pained sibling moaned as the movement caused his aching body to groan without his permission. A final plea escaped his lips indicating he needed it all to stop.

"D-Dean"

"Let's go, hurry up," Dean urgently requested of Bobby as he heard his brother's discomfort and cry for relief.

The two did their best to coordinate their efforts as they carried Sam up the stairs. Sam struggled to take control of his gasps and moans as he knew his brother would blame himself for each and every one.

Bobby feared for both boys as he knew Dean's wound was not up to the task and would begin bleeding again and Sam was clearly struggling to hang on.

Dean felt a warm wetness once again blossom on his chest as his brother's weight and shaking movements pulled and tugged the somewhat clotted wound apart. His arm started losing its strength and he feared his shoulder wouldn't hold out much longer.

Somehow, some way, the three managed to make it upstairs, unnoticed, to the second floor and into the room they had rented. Bobby kicked the door closed with his foot as he passed through and the two struggled Sam over to the bed.

Dean crawled backward across the bottom of the bed and up to the headboard, pulling his dangling sibling along with him, and then gently eased his pained and trembling brother down between his legs.

Dean sat pinned, sandwiched between Sam and the bed, and, having nothing leftto give, having given all that he had to get his brother safely there, he collapsed, unableto remove himself from his position, **a**fter being assaulted by both pain and exhaustion. His arms gave out as well, but somehow remained wrapped around his little brother's chest, holding on to him as if both their lives depended on it.

Bobby released Sam's legs and adjusted them into what he considered was a comfortable position, then grabbed the blankets from the second bed and put them over the two Winchesters.

"You boys gonna be alright?"

Dean nodded as he adjusted the blankets up around Sam's shoulders and neck. Then he laid his head back and shut his eyes, once again seeking solace in the darkness behind his eyelids.

Bobby paused as he stood before the brothers. The scene was so representative of their relationship. Sam lay in his brother's protective arms, Dean behind his brother as he always was and always would be; both dependent on the other for survival. He smiled warmly and then slipped out the door, glancing around for any signs of trouble, locked it, and left.

**ooOOOooo**

Dean suddenly startled awake, sensing that something was not quite right. He immediately looked down to his brother to check and see if he was alright.

Sam lay still, quiet in his arms. Dean felt the urge to place his hand on his brother's chest to check his breathing.

Sure enough he felt the rise and fall as his lungs inhaled and exhaled. His heart beat steadily under his palm. Sam was okay for the moment.

Still, he had an eerie sense that something was wrong. He glanced at his watch. He'd been asleep for about two hours. Bobby wasn't around and must have slipped out for supplies. Dean glanced quickly over to the desk for a note, but it was empty. Even if Bobby had slipped out, he should have been back by now. Both Dean and Sam needed stitching and he thought it odd that the hunter hadn't returned sooner to do it.

Feeling the need for his piece, he gently raised Sam's upper body and slid out from beneath his sleeping brother's frame. He quickly eased his sibling down laying his head carefully on the pillow and grabbed his piece from his waist band and moved over to the door to listen. His senses strained for any sign of activity or movement on the other side.

Hearing nothing, he moved stealth-like towards the window, taking up a position on the right side. He eyed his brother quickly, and then slowly pulled the curtain back just slightly to take a look outside. Scanning the lot and the tree line beyond, checking out each shadow as best he could in the darkness, he could not detect a presence or threat. Still, the feeling remained. He considered going outside and doing a thorough search, but he didn't want to leave Sam alone.

He made his way back to his brother and sat beside him on the bed beginning to question his instincts. No sooner had he done so when he heard the sound of the door handle behind him being tried. It was locked and so the motion quickly ceased.

Dean moved to the back of the door and readied his piece. Could be Bobby, but he'd have a key. Dean waited to see if there was a noise in the lock. Sure enough, he felt the sound of metal touching the knob. Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding hostage and moved to open the door.

Before his hand had made contact with the knob, the door flew open forcefully throwing him backwards against the unforgiving wall behind him. The barrel of a gun, aimed directly at Sam who lay sleeping in bed completely unaware of the danger he was in, appeared through the opened doorway. Its owner remained concealed on the opposite side.

Dean furiously grabbed the barrel and forced it upward, trying to redirect its aim away from his defenseless brother, while he slammed his body into the door forcing the intruder back out. The barrel fired and then got caught, wedged between the door and its frame.

Dean eyes shot over to Sam to see if he'd been hit, but before he could make eye contact with his sibling, another shot rang out.

Dean felt a sharp pain in his right side as his eyes fell on a hole that had appeared in the door. He heard a third shot as another chunk of the door flew off. The bullet missed him by inches and imbedded itself in the wall across the room.

Dean realized that the hunter behind the door had a handgun and was shooting through the door while he was trying to wrestle the rifle caught in the doorway. Dean released the barrel, stepped back, and fired his weapon emptying his clip of all but one bullet, knowing to save one in case he had missed his attacker. Before he had released his finger from the trigger, another shot rang out.

Dean stumbled backward as the force of the bullet slammed into his chest. The pain of which was indescribable. White hot flashes radiated out through his chest and into his fingertips as he gasped to collect air in his punctured lungs. As a drunkard swaggers and falls, Dean felt his body sway and then drop to the floor. He opened his mouth wide, desperately trying to collect the air in the room for his oxygen starved lungs. The world around him lost its textures and sounds as it swirled before his eyes.

As if in slow motion, the attacker, whom he had shot repeatedly, moved through the doorway, unaffected by the bullet barrage that should have taken him down, turned to look at Dean's dying body, sneered, and then moved toward the bed where his defenseless, sleeping brother lie.

Dean tried to yell, to warn his sibling of his impending doom, but his voice wouldn't work. Only streams of blood made their way out of his mouth, dripping to the floor and pooling on the tacky orange carpet that lay stained beneath him. All he could do is watch in horror as the large, vindictive man readied his weapon and took aim at his little brother.

Shots rang out, one after another, after another as Sam's unsuspecting body flailed from the impact of each. Blood sprayed everywhere, rising up from the bed, as if bubbling up from a fountain, only to be pulled back down by gravity.

Dean's mouth formed the word 'NOOOOO," but his lungs could not force enough air out to make the sound that should have accompanied it.

The assassin emptied his clip into Sam and stood over his handiwork, basking in the success of his hunt. Then he turned to Dean who lay helpless on the floor, spit on him, and walked out, pausing to close the door as if to be courteous.

Dean, gasping for air, began dragging himself over to his brother's bed, leaving a trail of blood across the floor. With a strength not quite his own, he somehow managed to pull himself up onto the bed where he froze, horrified by the site of his brother. Sam's face was unrecognizable, his body was shattered and bleeding and……dead.

Dean laid himself back on the bed and grabbed his brother under the arms and pulled him tight to his damaged chest. The blood, having drained so quickly from his frame, no longer sprayed, but just slowly trickled down the sides of his body. Dean's arms slipped across his blood soaked sibling's chest as he hugged him close for the first time in years and the last time for ever.

"Ssammy" he gasped. "no"

Dean kissed his brother's bloody head, whispered he was sorry, and cried. Having lost the one thing in life that mattered to him, he closed his eyes and…..

Dean opened his tear filled eyes, his brother was still in his grasp as he felt sobs escaping from within his wounded chest. He glanced down at his brother who lay still in his arms….breathing?

"Sam?"

Dean jumped and frantically searched his little brother's frame. His brother was alive. He began looking around the room. There was no blood, no holes in the door, no little brother dead in his arms.

The confused hunter gasped and wiped the sweat from his forehead, the tears from his eyes. A nightmare? A god damned nightmare!

Sam, feeling his brother's activity beneath him, stirred.

It was the best feeling Dean had ever experienced. His fears had not been realized.His little brother was alive, the sharpshooter hadn't gotten him. He hugged his brother tightly vowing that he would kill the son of a bitch before he ever got near enough to threaten, let alone hurt Sam again.

Dean's forehead beaded up with tiny drops of water and he once again wiped the wetness along with his despair away. He felt heat radiating off his skin where he touched it; fever was setting in. Bobby was right; his wound was getting infected.

Dean checked his watch. Bobby had left the brother's almost two hours ago. He should have been back by now.

As his heart rate slowed from the wild, hysterical pace it had been racing at only moments earlier, his mind began to consider the possibilities.

Bobby could be delayed trying to get the medical supplies they would need in preparation for Sam's withdrawal. Sneaking in and out of hospitals, particularly into the drug dispensaries was quite a difficult task. Bobby was skilled and smart. He wouldn't take any chances on getting caught and he wouldn't' leave without what he came for since Sam's life was dependant on his success.

The second scenario that Dean could come up with was more disturbing and followed the path his horrendous nightmare had taken. Maybe the sharpshooter had followed them, tracked them somehow, had taken Bobby out and was approaching right now.

Dean shifted nervously trying to reason why that scenario was unlikely. Bobby had been careful and made sure they hadn't been tailed and was too damn good a hunter to let some sharpshooter take him out, no matter how perfect his aim seemed to be.

He thought of calling Bobby on his cell to confirm he was okay, but was worried if the guy was in the middle of 'acquiring' the much needed medical supplies from the local hospital, the ring might reveal his presence and cause him trouble. He had to believe the hunter was fine and soon to be returning.

Having no justifiable reason for the anxiety he was feeling, apart from the horrendous nightmare that had nearly caused his death by a heart attack, having played out his fears in his unconscious mind where he was unable to reason them away, he decided to check on his brother more carefully and, if he was okay, wash up. The fever was a clear indication that he needed to take care of his wound.

After determining that Sam was sleeping and that his shivers and shakes had not worsened, he covered him and headed to the bathroom, tucking his piece in his waist band for easy access just in case.

Grabbing a wash cloth, he soaked it in the warm water that flowed generously from the faucet and placed it on his face, trying to wipe away all the trauma of tears, sweat and blood that had accumulated there the past day.

Having left the bathroom door open a crack so he could keep watch over his brother, he peeked out to check on Sam. His brother remained in bed, trembling, but asleep.

With difficulty, Dean removed his bloody t-shirt which was practically glued on him in dried blood and began examining his wound. The skin appeared swollen, a red hue spreading out from it indicated infection. He'd need antibiotics and one hell of a seamstress, but he still thought he'd be okay. He laughed wondering if Bobby would appreciate being called a seamstress.

Using the washcloth, he began wiping the crimson paste away until there was only a bit left at the opening of the wound. He didn't want to pull or push the skin around it and risk tearing the fragile clots that barely held the blood inside his body.

He checked his back which was sore from having smacked against the cement stairs at the hospital and sure enough, round scabs with underlying bruises had already formed over where each vertebra touched the skin. '_Well, that's a new one_,' Dean snorted, having never had polka-dots down his back before.

Once again he peeked back out at Sam, relieved the kid was still asleep. Having no other shirt to put on, he grabbed a clean towel, draped it over his shoulders, and returned to his brother's side.

Sitting down on the bed beside him, he could see that Sam was not well. Not only was his brother trembling again, but his face was set as if in pain. Dean glanced at his watch. If Reynolds was right, Sam was about 11 hours into withdrawal. Damn. If the symptoms were going to peak at 24 and his little brother was already grimacing in pain, Dean could only imagine how bad it was going to get.

Suddenly Sam flinched. The movement startled Dean and he studied his brother more closely. Sam started shaking, and a slight cry escaped his lips. Dean put his hand on his arm attempting to determine if his little brother was having a nightmare or if it was something else.

Sam's eyes flew open, a world of fear spun wildly inside of them.

"Sammy?" Dean gently called. "You okay?"

Sam blinked and attempted to rise. His body would not afford him the luxury, however, and he flopped back.

"Sam?"

The now awake sibling looked towards his brother's voice, finding peace upon the sight of him.

"D-Dean?" he shivered out, his face still stiffened as if in pain.

"In the flesh," Dean replied trying to keep things light. "You dreamin there, Sammy Boy?"

Sam nodded and wiped his tired eyes with his shaking hand. Dean detected the motion and tried to press on.

"Was I in it?"

"N-nightmmare, a-actually, and y-yess you wwere in it." Sam complained.

Dean scowled, not sure what his brother meant by that. "You mean it was a nightmare and I just happened to be in it? Or…it was a nightmare _cuz_ I was in it?"

"C-cuz" Sam whispered out with a slight teasing smile on his face. He suddenly broke out in a chill that caused his teeth to chatter and his body to shake more intensely.

Dean frowned and put his hand on Sam.

"Thhink I'mm g-getting ssick, ffffff" Sam shivered out as he looked up at Dean with apologetic eyes. He knew the last thing his brother needed was to have to worry about him getting sick.

"You are sick, kiddo."

Sam rolled his eyes. "N-not wwhat I mmeant."

"Not what I meant either," Dean added sincerely.

"Sshould have g-gotten my ffflu shhot I g-guess, h-huh?"

"Not sure that woulda helped much with this," Dean sadly replied.

"C-can I havefff ssomething ffffor the aches?" Sam requested looking pleading up at his brother.

"Soon as Bobby's back, we'll get ya fixed up, okay?" he responded sympathetically.

Dean looked at his watch. _Damn it_! Bobby needed to hurry up with the stuff! Sam was hurtin and it was getting worse faster than expected.

Sam nodded.

Dean knew it was time to tell his little brother the truth. The symptoms were increasing and only going to get worse. Sam needed to know what he would soon be facing.

He bit his lip and wiped his hand across his face.

"Hey Sam?"

"Y-yeah.. ffff" Sam shivered out as he slowly rolled onto his back trying to find a position that was a little less painful. The aches seemed to build over time as he stayed in one position.

"We need to talk."

"C-can it wwait til mmorning? fff I d-don't ffeel so ggood right nnow. fff"

"I wish it could. I do. But it can't. I'm sorry."

Sam rolled back over to look his brother in the eyes, troubled by the somberness in Dean's tone.

"Wwhat's the mmatter? Y-you okkay?"

Sam shook as a wave of tremors surged up and down his body. His eyes began searching over his brother's body looking for his injuries.

Dean sniffed. It was something he always did when he was nervous or upset and Sam knew something bad was coming.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Well, no. Not really," he stumbled.

"Yyour sshoulder? Gggod, D-Dean, hhow bbad are yyou hhurt?" Sam questioned worriedly.

Sam's innocence and concern nearly brought Dean to tears. The kid was about to go through hell, and he was still thinking about him.

"No, Sammy. It… It's not me," Dean assured him trying to figure out how to begin.

"Wwhat? D-Dean, wwhat is it?"

Dean took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice as steady as possible.

"It's Gordon, he, uh, he drugged you, Sammy, back at the hospital."

Sam searched Dean's eyes. "Wwhat? Wwhat are yyou ttalking a-about? Ah!"

Sam curled in on himself and fisted the blanket.

"Sam, what is it?"

"Stomach c-cramp, I thhink. m'okay. T-tell mme what yyou mmean."

"That seven week hibernation of yours? Seems Gordon, uh," Dean paused having trouble spitting it out.

Sam waited patiently giving his brother time to finish what ever it was he was having trouble saying.

"Well, it looks like he arranged it," he put out as gently as he could.

Sam looked at Dean in shock and disbelief as his body relaxed from the cramp that seemed to have mercifully released.

"Wwhat exactly are y-you ssaying, Dean?"

"S'like I told ya, Sammy. He drugged you….. Kept you asleep, man….. I didn't know, I'm ..I'm sorry," Dean apologized as his eyes began to tear up, overwhelmed with guilt and sorrow for what his error was gonna cost his little brother.

Sam searched his brother's face and saw the pain and guilt in his eyes. He shook his head.

"N-not your f-fault, D-Dean. m'okay…I'm a-awake n-now."

Sam's body once again was overtaken by tremors. Dean moved over and tried to steady his brother's shaking frame. After a few minutes they seemed to quiet. Dean got up and brought Sam a drink of water, raised his head and gave him time swallow.

Sam nodded thankfully and allowed his head to sink back into his pillow. Dean placed the glass back on the nightstand where he'd found it by the empty ice bucket, and returned to his brother's side.

The two sat quietly for a moment. Dean tried to figure out how to tell his little brother the rest of the god awful story. He'd told his brother some pretty horrible things over the years, but nothing like this. He wondered if straight out was really the best way to do it or whether to try to water it down a bit hoping it might sound less shocking.

Sam broke the silence after taking a moment to think.

"H-hey D-Dean?" Sam shivered out once again.

"Yeah," Dean answered pulling the covers tightly around his sibling.

"S-so wwhy w-would G-Gordon d-drug me to mmake mme s-sleep? It d-doesn't mmake s-sense."

Dean took a deep breath and, trying to keep his voice as steady and calm as possible, he began.

"The drug that he used? It, uh, it messed with you body's chemistry, Sammy. And your system kinda got used to it being there."

" I-I'm...a-addicted??? uh, ah!" Sam translated his sibling's simple description in horror as a flash of pain seared quickly through him.

Dean braced Sam again until it passed, then looked at Sam with an anguished face and sad, watery eyes, and nodded. Sam could tell there was more to the story by the look on his brother's face and waited fearfully for him to finish.

"And now that you're awake, the stuff's no longer in your system, Sammy," Dean paused and drew a breath. "And without it…"

"W-with d-drawal???" Sam questioned barely in a whisper, searching his brother's eyes fearfully for him to say otherwise.

Dean nodded and rested his hand on his brother's arm. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

Sam didn't say anything, just shivered and looked away.

Seeing Sam look away was painful. Dean didn't know if Sam was turning away from him and his hideous failure to protect him, or if it was despair. Whatever the reason, Dean couldn't let his little brother shut down.

"Sammy?"

Sam remained quiet, only the chattering of his teeth and the fffff-ing of the air going in and out across his quivering lips indicated that he was still there.

"Sammy, please," Dean begged needing to know what his brother was thinking.

"It d-doesn't e-end d-does it?"

"It will, but I'm not gonna lie to ya. It's a long road between here and there. But I swear to you, little brother, I will be right here, the whole way, and get you through," Dean promised himself as much as Sam.

"N-no, Dean. S'not what I m-meant….fffff….I m-mean the whhole hunting m-me thing. F-first the r-roadhouse, then the h-hospital, n-now this-s-s…"

Dean put his head down. God he wanted to tell his brother that this was it. The last thing and then he was home free. Give his little brother hope, not more trouble. But he couldn't. The sharpshooter was still a problem. Dean didn't think Sam needed to know about him with all the other things he was carrying, so he offered the only encouragement he could.

"Not yet, but it will be over…soon." Dean spoke the words as a promise.

"I h-heard yyou and B-Bobby talking…fffff….There's s-still one leffft and whho knows af-fter that?"

Dean remained speechless. He had no idea if there were more and didn't realize Sam already knew about the sharp shooter, whose location Dean didn't have a clue about. He could be lurking outside the window right now as they spoke.

Dean wanted to tear the room apart. He felt such anger inside. Sam needed hope and he couldn't offer him any. What could he say? From Sam's perspective, he was being hunted for the monster he feared he'd become. Hunters wanted to kill him, the demon wanted to use him for some 'god knows what' purpose, and everyone he loves seems to be dying. It wasn't fair; Sam was supposed to have a normal life. It's what the kid wanted. Is that too much to ask for??

"D-Dean" Sam's soft voice broke through the warring thoughts in his older sibling's mind.

Sam turned to look at his brother, his eyes sincerely pleading. "Wwhat's g-gonna h-happen to m-me?…fffff."

The question was so sincere. Dean knew the answer, but for some reason his tongue couldn't seem to relinquish it.

"P-please, ttell mme e-everything…ffff"

Dean was broken by his brother's plea. To tell Sam what he would be suffering went against everything inside of him. His heart was screaming at him, telling him to protect Sam from the truth, that it would be too painful, too scary, too hard for his little brother to handle. But Sam had a right to know and deserved the truth and because of his love and respect for Sam, Dean relinquished it at his brother's request.

"It starts out like the flu…chills, aches, tremors…and can go into throwing up, seizures and convulsions…." His voice faded out at the end.

Sam put his arm over his eyes and turned away.

"Sam? Sammy, please man, don't shut me out. Talk to me," Dean begged.

Sam's arm remained over his face, his body shivering, his lips silent.

"Sam, please."

"H-how l-long?

"What? How long til what?"

"Till it p-peaks?"

Dean's eyes widened. His brother knew enough about withdrawal to know it would reach an unbearable point.

" It peaks anywhere from 24-36 hours," Dean numbly reported.

"H-how long h-have I ggot lleft?"

"About 12 hours if the time table is right, might be less."

Sam remained silent and still, not responding or even attempting to respond.

Dean waited in agony, wanting to reach out and assure Sam he was there, but fearing his brother wanted to be alone and that contact might drive him further into himself, the last place Dean could stand for him to be.

Moments later, Sam wiped his face dry and turned to look at Dean. His pain filled, frightened eyes searched his brother's weary, guilt ridden face.

"I d-don't bblame y-you. D-Dean, n-no mmatter whhat happens. It's n-not your f-fault. P-promise me, n-no matter whhat, you w-won't blame y-yourself," Sam pleaded.

Dean looked at his brother in amazement. The kid could read him like a book, game face or not, and was offering him freedom, freedom from guilt and freedom from responsibility. Dean might try to receive the pardon his brother was offering for his error and even release the guilt that threatened to undo him, but freedom from responsibility for his brother's well being, his life? It was not something he could or would ever grasp. He was responsible for Sam, always was and always would be.

"Can't do that Sammy. Just can't do it…. So, you better fight this thing, okay? We'll fight this thing together…you and me. And we'll get you better, and stronger….and we'll take down each and every son of a bitch that sets his sites on you until there aren't any left."

Sam smiled, appreciative of his brother's bravado. Somehow it was comforting to hear his brother tell him they were in it together and that things were going to be okay as long as they were, even when it didn't seem possible that they could be.

Dean returned the look as the two sat in silence enjoying their brotherhood. It felt good to see his little brother smile. It might be the last time for a while, before they enter the most terrifying tunnel they would ever have to experience together, and it felt good to enjoy a tiny oasis, together.

Sam suddenly shivered and once again the tremors increased in intensity. He felt a cramp knot in his stomach and cried out as pain streaked, like lightening, through his nervous system, frying the nerve endings and ravaging his already fragile frame, sapping what little strength he had.

Dean watched helplessly as he saw Sam arch in reaction and desperately tried to brace his shoulders with is hands and coo encouragements as if to be a lightening rod to help him become grounded.

In a flash, it was gone and the relentless shivering resumed. Sam quieted as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. His eyes began to slowly blink and took on an almost glassy look.

Dean grew concerned, unsure if it was sleep that was claiming his brother or one of those tiny seizures that just make a person look dazed.

"You okay?"

Sam interpreted the question as an emotional one, though Dean had been questioning the physical, not thinking that Sam was even open to an emotional conversation at the moment.

"…'m scared," Sam revealed innocently.

Dean nodded.

"Me too," he answered honestly.

Sam smiled, appreciating his brother's honesty, not hiding behind a mask, not making a joke of an impossible situation, just pure honesty.

"Get some rest," Dean suggested as he settled next to his sibling to wait for Bobby and the much needed supplies.

Sam nodded and turned on his side soon to drift off to another restless sleep.

Dean watched as his brother's eyes blinked slowly, opening whenever pain or tremors startled him, closing in between. Twelve hours were gone and in another twelve hours, there would not even be a restless sleep for his little brother to find. The thought of what was to come hollowed out his heart and drove a stake through his soul.

TBC

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	12. Count Down

**Previously**

"…'m scared," Sam revealed innocently.

Dean nodded.

"Me too," he answered honestly.

Sam smiled, appreciating his brother's honesty, not hiding behind a mask, not making a joke of an impossible situation, just pure honesty.

"Get some rest," Dean suggested as he settled next to his sibling to wait for Bobby and the much needed supplies.

Sam nodded and turned on his side soon to drift off to another restless sleep.

Dean watched as his brother's eyes blinked slowly, opening whenever pain or tremors startled him, closing in between. Twelve hours were gone and in another twelve hours, there would not even be a restless sleep for his little brother to find. The thought of what was to come hollowed out his heart and drove a stake through his soul.

**Chapter 12 **

**2 a.m. /16 hours into Withdrawal**

Dean startled from his fever induced sleep, somewhat disoriented, having not remembered going to sleep or even laying down in the first place. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but when he did, he immediately sat up and searched the bed beside him for his brother.

Sam lay restlessly sleeping. His face was pale; dark circles under his sunken eyes gave him an almost morose appearance. Furrowed eyebrows, grimaced lips, and hitched breathing revealed that he wasn't depressed, but was actually in pain.

Dean reached over his trembling brother to check his pulse. Sam's heart beat steadily beneath his fingertips, well within the range of normal. Dean sighed in relief. Whatever pain his little brother was experiencing, it was not enough to increase his heart rate or disturb his sleep. Dean adjusted Sam's head more comfortably on his pillow, pulled the blankets up tightly around his shoulders, and patted his chest. "Sleep easy, Sammy," he whispered his wishes to his unhearing sibling.

After wiping the perspiration from his increased body temperature off his brow, Dean checked his watch. His inflamed shoulder begged for attention as it burned with his movement. Four hours had passed since his conversation with Sam and still, Bobby had not returned. The man had been gone well over six hours in all and Dean was beginning to grow anxious with his absence, concerned for Bobby's safety and fearful for Sam, who would soon be in need of the medical supplies he was to obtain. If the time table was right, Sam would reach the peak of withdrawal in less than eight hours.

Dean heard a sound just outside the motel door. His heart began beating wildly as the memory of his nightmare assaulted his mind again. He reached for his gun and rose, standing protectively between his sleeping brother and the door, fearing that any minute the barrel of a rifle would be poking through.

Watching anxiously, he heard the lock being keyed.

He aimed his weapon and fingered the trigger. The door cracked open, then paused.

Dean stood frozen, holding his breath.

Suddenly the door flung open, hit the wall and closed part way again. Bobby appeared and shoved it the rest of the way with his foot, his arms too full to be able to assist. He entered and paused in front of Dean's aimed weapon.

"Now is that any way to greet Santa Claus?" the jolly man, loaded down with bags of supplies, quipped as he made his way over to the table next to the window to relieve his burdens.

The warm familiar smile of his face was a welcomed relief and Dean lowered his weapon and exhaled.

"Dude, I know Santa Claus, and you ain't no Santa Claus. And that," Dean paused pointing to the door, "sure as hell isn't a chimney," Dean rebuffed wittingly.

Bobby turned and stared at his sarcastic counterpart.

"You're getting coal from me next Christmas," Bobby rasped. "Give me a hand, wise ass,"

Dean smiled and immediately ran in behind him, grabbed the two remaining duffels still outside the door, then shut it.

"Jeez, what'd you do, rob a hospital?" he quipped sarcastically as he felt the weight of the supplies in his grasp.

Bobby turned around surprised at Dean's good humor. It wasn't a game face he was looking at or even a mask. Dean seemed a bit relieved, and for the life of him he couldn't think why. Sam was sick, they were hiding out from a hunter, and he had a wound that, based on Dean's flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead, was clearly infected. Certainly not a reason for humor.

He had no idea that Dean's relief came from his safe return and the fact that his nightmare had not become a reality.

Both set the supplies down on the floor and began unloading them onto the flimsy, Formica table top that stood in the corner.

"How's he doing?" Bobby questioned as he turned to look over at Sam.

"Not good," Dean answered as he shivered and placed the additional bags on the floor beside the others. "He's starting to hurt. Did you get the pain supplies for him?"

Bobby nodded sympathetically, tossing the IV bags, ports, syringes, ampoules filled with various liquid pain relievers, and other medical supplies on the table.

Dean was pleased with the over abundance of supplies the hunter had managed to obscond with.

"Did you leave anything for the patients in the hospital?" Dean wisecracked as he lifted up the ampoules to read what they contained.

His eyes fell on a morphine vial and he was filled with trepidation. He hoped to god they wouldn't need to go that route. The thought of his little brother being in that much pain and medicated into unconsciousness again was gut wrenching.

Bobby detected Dean's consternation, collected the morphine bottles, and tossed them back in the duffle out of sight.

Dean nodded appreciatively and began rummaging through the groceries on the floor. Feeling incredibly thirsty, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, unscrewed the cap, and guzzled it down, wiping his mouth with satisfaction. Then he began looking for something to eat. He choose an apple and put it in his mouth, holding it there with his teeth as he searched for more. Amongst other things, he stumbled on boxes of rice cereal, canned baby food jars, and apple sauce. He removed the apple from his mouth, held a baby food jar out, and turned to Bobby with raised eyebrows.

"What's this? Something you want to tell me, honey?" Dean snickered. "Aren't you a little too old to start a family, Bobby?"

"Laugh all you want, wise ass, but it's probably the only thing your brother will be able to eat the next few days. We gotta get him onto solid foods as soon as he gets past this crap."

Dean sighed and nodded. Bobby was right. Sam, having been on a feeding tube the past seven weeks and rushed from the hospital before having a chance to adjust, hadn't had solid food yet. And now, he was gonna be as sick as a dog, unable to eat anything for another day or two. Baby food might be the only thing to get him by. Dean glanced over to his brother and hoped his body had enough meat on it to sustain him.

"Maybe we should give him something to eat now," Dean remarked half as a question and half as a statement.

Bobby shook his head. Dean was flush with fever and his injury was clearly infected.

"Let's fix you up first. Let him sleep while he can. He's gonna need all the strength he can get."

**oooOOOooo**

**3:30 a.m. 17 ½ hours into withdrawl**

An hour and a few dozen curse words later, Dean was cleaned, sewn, and patched up, not quite as good as new, but definitely on his way. Bobby offered the eldest Winchester some of his pain supplies, but Dean refused, wanting to be coherent should Sam wake up and need him. Ibuprofen would have to suffice for now.

Bobby tossed Dean a bottle of antibiotics he had lifted from the hospital pharmacy and began spewing medical advice at him.

"One pill, three times a day, with water, no dairy. Should probably take it with food. It's powerful stuff and might make your stomach sick."

Dean looked at Bobby with raised eyes, surprised the man was so knowledgeable and familiar with the medical field. The man was never predictable, that was for sure.

"Couldn't you have grabbed the kind that you only have to take once a day?" Dean heckled.

"Could have gotten you one shot a day!" the hunter threatened.

Dean winced playfully, "No, I'm good. This is good."

Bobby nodded, quite pleased with himself at having shut the sarcastic Winchester up. He continued his medical advice.

"You should get some rest and not do any heavy lifting or strenuous activities with your arm for the next week or so."

Dean raised his eyebrows at Bobby, then looked over at Sam. "Does that include sick baby brothers?"

Bobby nodded acknowledging there was no way in hell Dean wouldn't be lifting Sam. The suggestion had been absurd. He opened his mouth to respond sarcastically, but Dean interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah….get some rest and don't call me in the morning."

Bobby smiled and nodded. It was exactly what he was going to say.

The two finished unloading the supplies. Bobby tossed some new clothes to Dean.

The eldest Winchester passed on the t-shirt figuring his shoulder was too sore to get it on and opted for the button down. Shortly after, their conversation merged back into survival mode.

"Any sign of our sharpshooter?" Dean asked seriously as he buttoned the last one.

"Nope."

"Scope out the town?"

"Yep"

"And?"

"And…the hospital is ten miles south of here." Bobby reported gently.

Dean looked down, knowing that Bobby's information was necessary only if he failed Sam.

Bobby noticed Dean's change in demeanor. "Not that we're going to need it," he added trying to assure the boy of his confidence in their success in helping Sam.

Bobby quickly moved on. "There's an apartment complex two miles north that might be a good place for you and Sam while he recuperates. I'll check it out later, see if the place will work and if you can rent month by month. It's a two story facility with apartments facing the street and away, so hopefully we can get one in the back."

"Grocery store is just down the street. Police just past that. Town's pretty small otherwise with easy in and out access in case there's a problem."

"Good"

Bobby glanced over at Sam's shivering frame. "I brought in a warm shirt for Sam and we should probably stitch his forehead before things get worse."

"I'll do it," Dean insisted. Sam was his responsibility. He'd always been the one to patch the kid up and if Sam was gonna be in pain by someone's hand, Dean wanted it to be his so he could manage the degree based on his brother's reactions, which he knew by heart. Besides, he could never sit idly by and watch someone hurt his brother, even if it was Bobby and he was helping.

Bobby nodded having already anticipated Dean's wishes.

Dean searched his pockets for his keys preparing to head to the car to retrieve the medical kit he and Sam always used to stitch each other up.

"I've moved the car, Sport, remember?" Bobby called gently as he jingled Dean's keys from his hand. "I picked up enough stuff at the hospital. Why don't you use what we've got here?"

Although he preferred their own kit, Dean nodded, almost too tired and sore to bother to disagree, collected the needle, thread, hydrogen peroxide, sterile bandages and gauze pads.

Bobby eyed Dean suspiciously, concerned that the boy wasn't quite up to speed.

"If you want help, let me know," he offered kindly.

Dean nodded and moved in close to his trembling brother.

He laid his hand gently on Sam's shoulder.

"Hey, Sam," he called out softly, not wanting to startle his restlessly sleeping sibling.

Pain filled eyes appeared under sluggish eyelids and looked up into Dean's waiting face.

"Hey, kiddo. I need to put a stitch or two in your forehead. Okay?"

Sam shivered fiercely, jerked and then moaned.

"Th-think I'mm g-gonna bbe s-sick, D-Dean," he whispered pitifully to his brother.

"I'll get a trash can," he offered taking off towards the bathroom.

Dean returned can in hand.

Sam reached out his shaking hand and weakly grabbed Dean's arm attempting to pull him in as if he had something private to say.

"N-no, D-Dean. N-not hhere," he pleadingly shivered.

Sam looked over at Bobby. Dean recognized his sibling's embarrassment. Bobby smiled recognizing it himself as well.

Dean hesitated, not sure his brother could make it to the bathroom is his weakened condition, but when he saw his brother's sick, puppy eyes looking back at him, he couldn't resist. He didn't care what it would take, the kid wanted some privacy and he was damn well gonna give it to him.

"Okay, kiddo, bathroom it is."

Just as Dean leaned forward to help Sam try to sit up, Sam moaned and began gagging. He gently turned him over on his side and held his head over the edge of the bed. He slid the trash can beneath him.

Bobby rose quietly, picked up his weapon and slipped silently out the door, affording Sam the dignity the boy wanted and deserved. He began to survey the perimeter, flash light in hand and weapon drawn.

Seconds later, Sam began retching.

At first Dean knelt on the floor beside the bed trying to offer support, but when the heaving increased dramatically, coming on with such violent intensity, Dean could tell his sibling was in trouble.

He scrambled over Sam and grabbed hold of his heaving frame, wrapping his left arm around his brother's emaciated waist to brace him and his right on his brother's head for support.

Sam fisted the bed trying to grab hold as his body lurched uncontrollably forward. His head pressed hard against Dean's hand as he heaved violently, mercilessly, in his arms. He had nothing in his stomach to expel except the water Dean had given him earlier when his stomach had cramped, so his body heaved unproductively, excruciatingly, over and over, relentlessly.

When no reprieve came, Sam cried out for help.

"Dea….(cramp, heave, cough, gasp) ….god….(cramp, heave, gasp)…. (heave, gasp) ..oh g-god…(cramp, heave, gasp)….(heave cough) ….(cramp, heave, )... …(gasp)….Dea!"

Sam began gasping for breath as the continuous brutal waves assaulted him, keeping him from being able to draw in even a quick breath. He no longer could speak or cry out.

"Sam, hold on. Try to breathe, Sammy. Try to relax your muscles and breathe," Dean coached as he rode the cruel waves along side his brother.

Sam's body continued to heave agonizingly and he suddenly cried out in pain as his rib gave way beneath the intense contractions. He wrapped his fisted hands around his chest and curled in on himself.

Dean heard Sam's rib crack and felt the pain as if it were his own.

"Jeezus, Sam," Dean whispered as despair washed over him. He spread his hand across his brother's chest desperately trying to figure a way to protect him from further injury.

Sam's body seemed unable to stop, the contracting muscles seemed unwilling to release their cruel hold. Dean feared his brother's chest would collapse beneath his trembling hand any minute.

"Sam, try to relax, please, Sammy just relax," Dean begged.

Sam cried out as another wave assaulted him.

Bobby, having finished scoping the immediate area, had returned and was waiting quietly outside the door. When he heard Sam's yell, he came bolting in.

Seeing Dean struggling with Sam, he ran to help.

Sam's face was bright red and grimacing in pain. His mouth hung wide open as he desperately tried to suck in air between the unforgiving cramps and heaves.

Bobby looked over to Dean who was frantically coaching his brother to breath and immediately offered his hands to assist. He placed his hand on Sam's sternum and attempted to keep his head tilted up to free his airway.

"C'mon, son, easy now, take a breath," Bobby counseled.

The violent assaults continued depriving Sam of the oxygen he needed. His mind became fuzzy, his body started to grow faint.

Dean felt Sam's body begin to grow limp, his brother's head rolled loosely in his hand. It was obvious Sam was losing consciousness as his oxygen starved brain was losing its ability to keep him coherent.

"No, Sam. Slow it down, damn it! Breathe!" Dean's panicked voice called out and he rubbed his brother's chest to try to coax the muscles to release.

Sam listened to his brother's panicked words as if spoken underwater and he felt his body being moved as if in slow motion. Powerless to honor his brother's pleading requests, he slowly let them fade away.

The two men watched helplessly, as Sam slowly lost his struggle to survive beneath their grasps. His body became unconscious.

The contracting muscles, losing their chemical orders to continue seizing, finally allowed Sam's stomach muscles to release. Dean felt the heaving stop, relinquishing its command over his brother's body and Sam instinctively took a breath. Bobby and Dean took one along with him.

After a few breaths, Sam sluggishly opened his eyes and stirred beneath Deans trembling hands.

"Sam?" Dean beckoned as he felt his brother's movements.

Dean lightened his grip on Sam's chest and forehead, though he still held his brother's body, absorbing the final tremors that shivered out of Sam into his own frame. He turned him gently over and looked into his eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered as his brother made eye contact with him.

Sam blinked slowly a few times before his lids finally shut and his body collapsed, limp, sweaty, and exhausted into his brother's arms.

Dean hugged him close and rested his chin gently on his head as a tear that had been building in his lid finally released down the left side of his cheek.

Bobby felt for Sam's pulse and was satisfied that it was strong and steady, though still racing. He looked over to Dean fearful for the fevered, injured and now bleeding again, clearly traumatized young man was doing.

"I heard it snap," the defeated sibling wearily lamented looking into Bobby's searching eyes.

"What, son?"

"His rib. At least one, maybe two," Dean wearily explained feeling helpless and destroyed.

Sam's body was going backward, back to the broken ribs that had threatened his life in the first place. Dean flashed on Jake's brutal assault when Sam's ribs first broke, then on the blood spilling from his brother's mouth, then on the paramedics trying to keep him breathing and Dr. Reynolds' voice announcing his brother was brain dead.

"Damn" Bobby responded feeling Dean's pain.

Dean laid his brother down gently on the bed and began unbuttoning Sam's shirt to check his ribs for damage. He carefully inspected his brother's chest, but couldn't detect any bruising or indentations.

"S'good," Bobby whispered trying to console the distressed brother. "Nothing looks broken."

Dean nodded and fell back on the bed, his head landed on the pillow and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to find solace once again inside the darkness of his eyelids wishing, for just a moment, that none of this was real.

Once again, without his consent, Dean succumbed to the exhaustion and fever that claimed his nerve wracked body, and slipped into a world that made his wishes come true.

Bobby checked the unaware Winchester's wound to make sure the stitches were still in place. He was pleased none had pulled through.

He stood over the Winchester brothers once again and found himself tear up. Both were so broken, so in need of their father. John always had a way of making things seem okay even when they weren't, and the boys sure needed a dose of that right now. He sighed as he felt the loss of his good friend. He only hoped that somehow he might be able to offer them the strength and help they needed to make it through.

Carefully and gently, he cut off the rest of Sam's shirt allowing the fabric to drop to the bed and maneuvered the passed out boy's warm sweatshirt over his head, his arms through each sleeve, and then gently lifted him enough to pull the rest of it down to his waist.

Sam stirred and moaned a few times, not from Bobby's handling so much as from the pain that was obviously ravaging his body.

Dean remained asleep beside his brother, unaware of the activity that was taking place beside him. He stirred just enough to be aware he had lost contact with Sam and repositioned himself with his arm on Sam's as if waiting, prepared to brace him again if needed.

Bobby decided to put three Steri-strips across Sam's injured forehead to hold the two pieces of skin together, since the cut wasn't that deep, the bleeding had stopped, and the kid didn't need the pain of stitches at the moment. The wound was clean from his ministrations back in the truck, so he did a quick touch up, put on some antibiotic cream and taped the strips in place. He covered them with a small bandage to prevent infection.

Bobby reached up and covered the brothers sleeping forms and took a watchful seat beside the bed, weapon on his lap, prepared for whatever laid ahead.

**oooOOOooo**

**8:30 a.m. 21 ½ hours into withdrawal**

"Dean," a voice called from somewhere off in the distance. Dean could hear it, but his fevered body seemed unwilling to respond.

"Dean!"

Dean startled awake at Bobby's urgent call. He suddenly became aware of his brother's movements and immediately sat up to check his sibling out.

Sam was literally writhing on the bed, his body twitching, his face drawn in pain. Sweat was pouring off of him; his hair was stuck to his forehead and his bandage was losing its grip on his skin as the wetness released the adhesive of its commitment. Small whimpers escaped his tightly drawn lips interspersed with soft gasps and moans. His face periodically flinched and it was clear he was suffering.

"God,Sam," Dean sighed as he reached out his hands and placed them gently under his brother's shoulders to pull him close. Sam's arms fell to the bed as he brother gathered him in his arms. Dean's sympathetic and worried eyes searched his brother's frame trying to determine what he could do to alleviate his distress and comfort his tormented sibling.

Sam turned his head shakily following his brother's voice and touch, and his tortured eyes fixed on Dean's face. His brows furrowed in pain as he writhed and moaned in his brother's arms.

"He's been like this for the last half hour and it's getting worse," Bobby softly explained as he knelt beside the bed trying to minister to Sam's needs. A cool, wet cloth beneath his hand periodically blotted Sam's face.

" S'in pain Dean, we're gonna need to medicate him."

"Why the hell didn't you wake me?" Dean gruffed out in anger as he held Sam's trembling and writhing form. He placed his hand out in request of the rag Bobby was holding.

Bobby relinquished it and Dean began to blot his brother's face.

"Uh! t-told …u-uh…hhim n-not …oh! t-to…gah…uh!," Sam painfully gasped and whimpered out shaking as his nerve endings screamed out in demand for the chemical they were dependent on to keep quiet.

"Sh...don't speak, Sam, just hold on, okay? You're gonna be okay, I promise. Just hold on."

"He was worried about you, your fever and your shoulder. Said you needed your rest," Bobby explained apologetically.

Dean gave Bobby a glare, furious with the hunter for honoring Sam's request. He turned his attentions back to Sam as his brother lay suffering in his care.

Sam's head rested in the crook of Dean's arm, his cheek up against his brother's shirt as he continued to jerk and moan and cry out in pain. Dean pressed the cool cloth against his brother's face and neck and watched helplessly as Sam struggled to manage his pain.

"Jeezus, Sam. What can I do for you? Huh? How can I help?"

Sam shuddered and gasped, his arms which had fallen loosely at his sides when his brother had lifted him, moved uncoordinatedly across his chest. His hands fisted. One went to his head as the hammering sound became almost too unbearable to take, the other to his brother's chest needing contact for strength.

" …oh!... g-god…D-Dea…(gasp)…god, itt hhurtss ...guh…."

Dean dropped the cloth and grasped his bother's hand, wanting so much for Sam's pain to transfer over to him with his touch.

Sam flinched again, threw back his head and cried out, his hand forcefully pulled from Dean's and he held it tight to his chest. Dean reached for his brother, but was afraid to touch him for fear he might hurt his already agonized body. His hand ended up hovering just above his brother's chest.

"Where Sam? Where's it hurt?"

Sam's lips barely cracked a smile before distorting into an agonizing expression. He was unable answer, only moans and mumbled sounds escaped his lips as he shook uncontrollably.

Dean looked at Sam's pained expression.

"Everywhere," Dean interpreted despairingly as he gently rested his hand on the side of his face and pulled him close.

Sam managed out a nod in between the painful sharp piercing stabs that were assaulting him. He cried out each time they seared through his flesh at an intolerable level. The tremors were getting so severe that he could feel the muscles in his arms and legs cramping. He curled up reflexively, his knees up tight to his chest.

"Hold on, Sammy, hold on. You're gonna be okay…you hear me? Sam?" Dean frantically questioned.

The pain, almost like hot flames seemed to lick at his flesh and his writhing became more of a rocking side to side as he struggled to manage the excruciating inflictions that racked his body.

Dean readjusted his hands and attempted to brace Sam between his arms, placing his brother's back against his chest. He struggled to move with his brother, rather than against him.

Sam laid his head back on Dean as if to receive his brother's presence and fisted his hands in his brother's pant legs trying to ride out the attack. When the pain grew intolerable again, he screamed out, curled in on himself, and rolled to the left.

Dean held on and looked helplessly at Bobby. Both knew the only thing left to help Sam was morphine.

Sam jerked and then began curling again and rolling to the right as if somehow trying to escape the flames that had been burning through him on the left.

Dean shifted with him, moving to the side of Sam and gathered him in his arms.

"Easy, Sam, easy. Try to breath in and out, slowly with me," Dean coached frantically torn between trying to help his brother manage his pain which he'd always done before and dosing him with morphine. He knew Sam didn't want morphine. He'd refused it before on previous hunts when he'd gotten pretty messed up, and he struggled desperately with the decision.

Somehow in the midst of all his suffering, Sam managed to reach out his quaking hand, his fingers vibrating wildly, and put it on Dean's ministering arms. He turned his head and looked up at his brother's eyes.

Dean gently placed his hand on the side of his face to support him there, trying to help Sam keep his gaze, if it would offer him any comfort.

"uh... h-help... guh... m-me...D-Dea…uh ..uh ...ppleasse ...guh," he begged as his trembling fingers fisted Dean's shirt.

Dean looked into Sam's tortured eyes understanding his little brother's request. Sammy had reached the end of himself, his ability to cope, and desperately needed Dean to relieve his suffering. He nodded, promising Sam the help that he begged for and looked over to Bobby.

"Let's do it."

Bobby jumped up and began preparing the morphine. He removed the needle's cap with his teeth, turned the bottle upside down, stuck the syringe into the small glass bottle filled with the liquid relief, withdrew the needed amount, and turned to approach the hurting Winchester who lay suffering in his brother's arms.

Bobby paused at his bedside as if seeking Dean's approval.

Dean closed his eyes and nodded, then grasped his tortured sibling's arm and held it steady.

Bobby wrapped rubber tubing just above Sam's elbow to cause a vein to bulge and forced some of the morphine out of the needle to be sure no air was trapped inside.

Sam's sweaty, shaking face looked down at his outstretched arm, held firmly in his brother's grasp, then at Bobby as he held the needle just above his vein, and then back up to Dean's face and nodded, his eyes begging for the help he so desperately needed.

Dean held his face and stroked his cheek soothingly with his thumb. He offered a sympathetic and understanding smile to his little brother as the needle went in and the morphine was released into his tortured body. Sam continued his fixed gaze on his big brother. Dean held his eyes steady and strong for him and watched painfully as his little brother's eyes slowly glazed over and his body relaxed beneath his grip. Eventually, Sam's eyes closed and he succumbed to the peaceful bliss of medicated relief.

Dean, broken, closed his eyes and held his brother's limp body in his arms as the room grew silent.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Bobby eventually whispered. "I know how much you both didn't want to have to go this route."

Dean remained speechless, too broken to be able to respond. He just sat on the bed holding Sam's lifeless body in his arms and wiping the cool washcloth across his brother's face and neck.

Eventually, convinced Sam was no longer in pain or in need of help, Dean slid out from under him and laid him gently on the bed. He brushed his little brother's bangs off his forehead where he knew Sam preferred them to be and straightened his blankets, pulling them up over his chest and tucking them neatly around his shoulders. He rested the palm of his hand on his chest and willed his brother peace wherever he was, knowing that Sam had gone where he couldn't follow.

Dean stood and looked down on his brother for a moment, wiped his hand across his face, and turned to go into the bathroom.

Bobby watched in silence, knowing Dean needed a minute to himself to deal and took up Dean's vigil at Sam's side.

oooOOOooo

Ten minutes later Dean emerged. Bobby was not surprised to see Dean had put on his game face. If he had one of his own, he'd have put it on as well.

Before Dean had even found his voice, Bobby reported.

"He's sleeping quietly. No signs of pain."

Dean nodded and smiled.

Funny thing about masks, they can cover up your entire face shrouding whatever lay beneath them, but they still have holes for your eyes. While Dean's mask displayed a confident smile, his eyes did not. Dean was troubled, fearful, and distraught.

Bobby studied the hurting Winchester trying to decide if he should allow him the courtesy to deal as he was able and accept the facade he was sporting, or whether he should get the boy to release some of the pain that was building up inside of him before he exploded or worse, fell apart.

He opted to leave Dean alone, hidden, knowing that, like John, sometimes it was the only way he could hold it together. Instead, he chose to focus on the young Winchester's health.

"How's the shoulder? Still got your fever?"

Dean didn't even bother to answer. It wasn't that he meant to be rude, nor that he held any anger against Bobby for not waking him sooner when Sam was suffering so, it was simply that he didn't care….about his pain or his fever. Both seemed inconsequential to him.

Bobby recognized where Dean was coming from and still pushed on knowing the young hunter would not take care of himself if he didn't.

"You need to take care of yourself," Bobby stated flatly. It wasn't an order, but it was close to it.

Dean brushed him off and made his way to his brother's side.

"Dean, you're not gonna be any good to Sam if you pass out," Bobby dramatized hoping to motivate the kid to do it for Sam.

The young sibling reacted and Bobby knew he'd reached him.

The older hunter went over to the nightstand and pulled out some medicine for him.

"Take these," Bobby expressed not giving Dean a chance to say otherwise as he held out another dose of Dean's antibiotic and Ibuprofen. He wanted to take a look at Dean's wound, but knew he'd better not push it.

Dean obliged, swallowing all three pills without water and smiled at Bobby in a cocky sort of 'Are ya happy' way.

Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Dean took up his vigil in the chair beside Sam's bed, watching his little brother lay unnaturally still, so sick, in bed.

"I'm gonna go see if I can grab a paper, see what was reported on our little hospital escapade yesterday," Bobby announced knowing Dean could use some time alone and wanting to give the boy something he could wrap his mind around while he waited for Sam to wake up.

Dean nodded and smiled.

"Might give us a clue as to who our sharpshooter is," he added further trying to get Dean to take an interest.

Dean nodded.

" You gonna be alright?" the hunter finally asked wanting to make sure Dean was okay before he left.

Dean smiled, game face perfectly in place, and replied, "I'm always alright."

Bobby nodded, not at all surprised by Dean's remark, checked that his piece was securely in place, and left closing the door almost silently behind him.

TBC

Poor Sammy! Poor Dean! And they're just getting started!

Hope you all didn't go through withdrawal waiting for this chapter! I'm sporting a nasty cold and it's squelching my creative energies! Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what ya thought! Rachelly


	13. Hell

**Previously on Supernatural Ambush**

"I'm gonna go grab a paper, see what was reported on our little hospital escapade yesterday," Bobby announced knowing Dean could use some time alone and wanting to give the boy something he could wrap his mind around while he waited for Sam to wake up.

Dean nodded and smiled.

"Might give us a clue as to who our sharpshooter is," he added further, trying to get Dean to take an interest.

Dean nodded again.

Bobby studied the young Winchester for a moment.

"You gonna be alright?" the hunter finally asked wanting to make sure Dean was okay before he left.

Dean smiled, game face perfectly in place, and replied, "I'm always alright."

Bobby nodded, not at all surprised by Dean's remark, checked that his piece was securely in place, and left closing the door almost silently behind him.

**Chapter 13**

**10 a.m./ 24 hours into Withdrawal**

Dean dozed off while sitting in the chair at Sam's bedside. The Ibuprofen seemed to be helping with the fever; his cheeks had returned to their normal coloring. The fact that he had fallen asleep on his watch, however, suggested it was still present and that the infection was continuing to take its toll on his worn down body. His weapon lay loosely in his hand on his lap, prepared should he need it to defend his brother.

Sam lay lost in his morphine induced sleep, his position exactly the way Dean had arranged him, on his back with his head centered on his pillow, arms laid neatly down at his sides. Though he was drenched with sweat as his body tried desperately to manage the chemical war that raged inside of him seeking a balance that would return it to good health, the tremors that had racked his body earlier, were no where to be seen. The blankets were exactly where they had been placed, indicating that the sleep Sam was experiencing was a deep one.

An hour later, after checking the perimeter, moving the cars, and securing the paper, Bobby returned.

Dean awoke as soon as Bobby opened the door. He was a bit taken off guard since he hadn't heard him key the lock and the young hunter reacted instinctively.

Bobby didn't even flinch when he found himself in the young hunter's site again. He just paused, gave Dean the opportunity to lower his weapon, and barreled on in.

"We made the front page," Bobby announced slapping the folded newspaper across Dean's chest waiting for the hunter to grab hold of it.

"Not surprised," Dean dryly commented back. He took the paper and unfolded it, scanning the headline for details.

"_Three Die in Hospital of Unnatural Causes..._ I think self defense is a natural cause of death. Don't you?" Dean quipped. "You threaten somebody's life, it's only _natural_ they kill you for it."

Bobby shook his head, amused by Dean's sarcastic sense of humor, then urged him to read on.

"_Three people died_….People, huh? More like psycho nut jobs if you ask me," Dean muttered almost under his breath.

"Read on," Bobby gruffed impatiently. He was anxious for the young hunter to read the rest of the article, having found something disconcerting further along when he'd read it himself.

"I take that to mean nobody's asking me?" Dean questioned feeling slightly amused that he had someone to irritate since Sam was asleep at the moment.

Bobby shook his head realizing he was going to be tortured by Dean's commentaries throughout the rest of the reading.

Dean smiled, pleased he had ruffled the normally calm, albeit gruff hunter. He liked the feeling of 'good old times' his sarcastic insertions brought him.

It was something he and Sammy had always enjoyed doing whenever they were left in the guy's care while their dad went off on a hunt. Having lived alone, without a family, Bobby was used to his cup 'o coffee in the morning and no interruptions when he read the newspaper. Dean could be annoying on cue, but Sammy was the worst…kid couldn't shut up if his life depended on it. Used to talk Bobby's ear off and almost always started as soon as the hunter picked up his paper. As Sam got older, he would read over Bobby's shoulder and comment all along the way. Drove the poor guy nuts.

Dean glanced over to Sam. God what he wouldn't do to see the kid talking endlessly, interrupting Bobby's enjoyment of the media right now.

Sam lay sweaty and unnaturally still and Dean's mask slipped momentarily.

He quickly put it back in place. If Sammy wasn't up to the task of harassing Bobby with the newspaper, he'd have to do it for him. Well, at least until Sam could do it again himself.

"_Three people died of unnatural causes yesterday at Overlake Memorial Hospital_..yada yada yada," Dean muttered as he skimmed on down to the second paragraph.

"_One died of a gunshot wound to the head_…Nice one, Bobby…though they should have mentioned he died of complications from being squished," Dean added throwing another playful glance at his grumpy family friend.

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"_A second man died of a gun shot wound to the chest_. Chest, huh? How about dead center hit to the heart. Bastard acted like he had a question. I gave him _my _answer."

Dean snuck another glace Bobby's way.

The wise hunter would have rolled his eyes, but fully aware of Dean's intent to annoy him, he refused to give the young hunter the satisfaction.

Dean scanned on down through the second paragraph looking for Gordon's demise.

"Huh."

"What?" Bobby questioned at Dean's surprised comment.

"No mention of a decapitation," he said with a cocky smile. "So much for getting the 'real scoop'."

"S'not the kinda thing people want to read while eating their croissants," Bobby explained. "Especially if they're drinking tomato juice," he added in the hopes of beating Dean to a punch line after realizing he'd left the door wide open for the sarcastic young man.

Dean looked up at the hunter with a disgusted, yet amused, smile.

Bobby cracked a victorious smile, glad to see the he could still outwit Dean once in a while.

Dean sneered, then returned to the article looking for more information and ammunition to lob back at Bobby.

"_Gordon Walker, age 41_…Thought he seemed like an _old _guy," Dean added grinning, throwing fifty-two year old Bobby a jab.

Bobby snorted. "Keep going, wise ass. At this rate, I'll be ninety by the time ya finish the damn thing."

Dean whispered a soft laugh, pleased his words had met their mark.

"_The second victim_…… Victim? Yeah, right. Can you believe this?" Dean dared to express, knowing full well he was pushing the limits with a man who was holding a weapon in his hand.

Bobby adamantly pointed back down to the paper.

"Alright, alright," he conceded. _The second victim, a Trevor Davis, age 35,_ yada yada yada . _The third victim, Dylan Reynolds_?"

Dean stopped and looked at Bobby with dark eyes.

Bobby gave him an equally serious look.

"Reynolds? As in Dr. Reynolds?" Dean asked his fellow hunter suspiciously.

Again, Bobby didn't answer.

"Son of a bitch! You think Sam's doctor is on this?"he questioned incredulously.

Dean threw the paper aside and began pacing as his mind began trying to put things together.

"He would have had opportunity. Hell, he even told me all Sam's medications were ordered by him and the lab work! Damn it! He'd have had full control. Could have told Gordon when Sam was awake, when we left the third floor!"

Dean began getting really worked up. "I'll kill the son of a bitch!"

"Dean, we don't know for sure they're related." Bobby began playing Devil's advocate,trying to counter so that he could reason it out himself. He had had the same reaction Dean did when he'd first read it.

"Yeah, right!"

"And it doesn't make much sense for Reynolds to save Sam only to get him killed later. The guy seemed genuine to me and I think to you too. It's not an uncommon name. Besides, what's his motivation? His brother's demon war?"

"Hell, yes. They could both be hunters. You have a day job fixing cars! He's a doctor!"

Bobby wanted to deny it, but it seemed to be a real possibility.

"Sure he's willing to come help us with Sam. Bastard wanted to know our location. Damn it! Should have known no normal person would have helped us after finding out I'd killed people!"

Dean sat down on the bed and rubbed his hand over his face and through his hair.

Bobby put his hand gently on his shoulder to calm him.

"Dean, before we jump to conclusions, let me make some phone calls and do some checking. Alright? He's no threat to us now. He doesn't know where we are and right now you need to take care of Sam."

"So help me, Bobby, if he's involved, I'll kill him for what he did to Sam. I will."

"One step at a time. We need to figure out our sharp shooter first. He's more of an immediate threat. Finish the article and let's see if anything else pops out at you."

Dean eyed Bobby suspiciously. "Are there any other surprises I should know about BEFORE I read on?"

"Not that I know of, and I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I wanted your take on it without my input."

"Well, ya got it!" Dean declared adamantly.

"That I did," Bobby admitted.

Dean conceded and picked the paper up off the floor, found the front page, and continued reading, motivated only by the desire to get information on the sharpshooter. He scanned down to the names again.

"_Trevor Davis, age 43 from Cleveland, Ohio._ Ever heard of him?" Dean questioned.

"Nope."

"Damn," Dean exclaimed after searching the entire article for any other names hoping that maybe the police had come up with information on the sharpshooter.

"What?"

"Gordon mentioned one of the hunters was named Tommy. Said he was a mean son of a bitch, into taking down his prey in cruel, torturous ways…shooting their legs out from under them and all kinds of shit. Bastard said he never failed a hunt. Bet he's our sharpshooter."

Dean was troubled, not only because they had another hunter to deal with, but that it was probably the one Gordon had described. The thought of Sam suffering at his hands terrified him.

"Bobby, we need to find him fast, before he can get anywhere near Sam," Dean stated adamantly.

"We will, Dean," Bobby reassured. "I'll make some phone calls, ask around. Other hunters may have heard of him; his specialty makes him unique."

"I want to know his name, who he is, where he's from, who his family is, the color of his car, …everything. I need everything we can get our hands on as leverage in case he engages us."

"You got it," Bobby promised. We'll get your brother through this mess and I'll head out after that. Hunters have certain gathering places, circles of contacts. I'll need to be gone a couple of days, but I'll be sure to come back with some answers.

Bobby suddenly paused.

"What?"

The thought of gathering places for hunters brought Ellen and Jo to mind. He hesitated for a moment, but figured Dean had a right to know.

"Page 6, bottom right," Bobby finally answered softly. His eyes told Dean what he'd find would be disturbing.

Dean flipped through the pages, stopped, and scanned down the right side. After a few seconds, he paused and dropped his hands, paper and all, to his lap. "Damn"

"Sorry, Son," Bobby offered as Dean once again mourned Jo and Ellen's deaths. Somehow both had held out hope that maybe the two had escaped. The newspaper declared otherwise.

Dean looked over at Sam. "You know, he asked me when it would end."

"Yeah? What did you tell him?"

"I didn't," Dean whispered despondently.

Bobby nodded. "You boys sure have a heap of trouble following you around, but you got good friends," Bobby winked, "and each other to help ya get through. Don't forget that."

Dean nodded, once again appreciative of Bobby and his friendship, and Sam. They were a small bunch, but they were family and Dean knew without them, he'd have nothing. And anything that threatened them...

Dean began dialing his cell.

"Who ya calling?" Bobby surprisingly questioned.

Dean eyed the man and Bobby knew. Dean was not one to wait and subtelty was not his style.

"Dr. Reynolds please."

"One moment please," the overly nasal voice muttered out again.

"Dr. Reynolds, here," the professional sounding man announced.

"Hey Doc," Dean greeted with dark eyes and venom in his voice.

"Dean, so glad you called. How's Sam?" the doctor seemed to sincerely question.

Dean bristled at the request. "As well as to be expected considering someone strung him out and then hung him out to dry," he stated with contempt.

The doctor noticed the brashness of Dean's statement. "I'm sorry your brother is having to go through this," he offered in sympathy trying to console the clearly upset sibling.

"Seems your brother didn't have it too easy either," Dean slipped in hoping to bait the seemingly sympathetic man.

"My brother? What do you mean?" the doctor questioned clearly confused by Dean's comment. "I don't have a brother, Dean."

"Dylan Reynolds. Was he your younger or older brother?" Dean pressed on trying to get the man to stumble and tip his hand.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Son. I don't have a brother, older or younger. What's this about, Dean ?" the still kind, yet clearly confused physician questioned.

Dean was good at reading people. He had pressed Reynolds and the man hadn't stumbled. His answers were reasonable, his tone and pacing indicative of sincerity. If he was involved, he was damn good at hiding it. Also, he wasn't defensive. Usually when a guilty person is asked if they've done something, they deny it and spend a lot of time explaining why they didn't do the thing they were accused of. Reynolds would have brought up the connection in the names himself if it had been his brother and spent hours explaining why he wasn't related. Dean began to suspect that the matching name was merely a coincidence.

"Dylan Reynolds. He was one of the guys killed at the hospital," Dean explained still curious what the doctor would say.

"Oh," the doctor finally understood. "And you thought he and I were related? What… that I was helping him?"

Dean paused. Somehow the way Reynolds put it made it seem a bit absurd. They guy had given his all to save Sam and had clearly shown concern for his little brother's well being. He had fought to keep him alive and in the hospital when he was told Sam wanted to leave and clearly gone out of his way to set them up with the right medical help including giving names of specialists. Guy had even gone so far as to coach Dean on how to help Sam get through withdrawal and had wanted to bring in the police to protect his brother.

Reynolds, noting the pause as Dean thought it all through, began trying to reassure the young man that he was no threat.

"Dean, I would never do anything to harm you or Sam. I'm actually surprised you would think that I would."

"Sorry, Doc. Guess I'm just on edge." Dean wiped his hand across his face. On edge was clearly an understatement. He had fallen off the edge ever since he'd stepped foot in the roadhouse seven weeks earlier. He had spent the past seven weeks watching his little brother get taken apart piece by piece and was feeling desperate to figure out how to keep the last remaining pieces in tact.

Feeling the need to explain his accusations, he added, "I had to be sure, to know who's in on this and who's not."

"I guess I can understand that with what you both have been through, but I can assure you I am not. How's Sam doing?"

"Not good, we had to dose him with morphine," Dean sadly reported. He was, however glad to have an ally in the doctor once again.

"Morphine? Where did you manage to get that or shouldn't I even ask?" the doctor added knowingly.

Dean smiled, "Best if not asked."

"I'm sorry, Dean. It must be hard to see your brother suffer and be medicated into sleep again. Is it helping?"

"He's sleeping quietly at least."

"You'll need to be careful. If he's on morphine, it's important that you keep him well hydrated. You'll need to set up an IV. Do you need any supplies?"

"We're good."

Somehow Reynolds wasn't surprised.

"Has he had any seizures or convulsions?"

"He cracked a rib or maybe even two when he got sick and convulsed. I...I couldn't stop the contractions. He couldn't breath and passed out," Dean explained apologetically.

Detecting Dean's feelings of guilt, the physician tried to assure him. "There's nothing you could have done to prevent it...the convulsion or the cracked rib. Sam's body is going to react. You can't stop it. All you can do is try to help him safely through, keep him from hurting himself like I told you. His body has to do the rest."

Dean appreciated Reynolds attempt to console him, but in his book, if Sam was suffering, it was his job to stop it.

"Is Sam okay now?"

"As good as can be expected, I guess," Dean commented sadly. His brother was doped up on morphine, sick as a dog and unconscious, but that was better than suffering or worse.

"Any signs of internal injuries, bruising, indentations, congested coughs?"

"No."

"Good. Just keep an eye out. It's been, what, about 25 hours. He's in the thick of it or soon will be so be careful. Do you remember what to do if he seizes?"

"Yes"

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"No. Thanks. I'll be in touch."

"Take care and good luck," the doctor added as he hung up the phone and paused with his hand on the receiver. He couldn't help but worry about how Sam in his condition would make out the next few hours and he feared for the young man's life.

Dean closed his cell and put it in his pocket. Relief washed over him; exhaustion soon took its place.

Bobby had only heard one side of the conversation, but was relieved when it went from accusatory to collaborative. He nodded his head and smiled at Dean, glad that betrayal hadn't been added to the long list of things the young Winchester was having to deal with.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean and Bobby spent the next two hours waiting with trepidation as the count down to hell ticked on. Both were anxious, though neither would admit it.

Dean checked on Sam constantly, monitoring his pulse, his breathing, and his movements, trying to discern if Sam was holding his own or worsening. Part of him hoped that maybe his brother would get off easily and that he had peaked early and it would be just a matter of coasting the next few hours until he was safely freed of his chemical dependency. But in his heart he knew nothing ever went easy for the Winchester family, especially for Sam.

Confident that his brother would not endanger himself by pulling it out, Dean started Sam on an IV to boost his fluids. Morphine was a complicated drug and it was imperative that Sam stay hydrated during its usage. Added to the fact that his little brother was sweating profusely and had pitched the only water Dean had been able to get into him several hours earlier, Dean felt he needed to take advantage of the quiet oasis that had been granted.

When he had finished, he wiped his brother's arm where the blood had briefly flowed, taped the tubing down along the inside of his arm should he suddenly move and prevent it from being pulled out, and checked the drip to make sure it was adjusted correctly. Then he wiped his brother's brow tenderly with a cool cloth and finally sat back and watched his sleeping form for a moment.

Sam, in his medicated sleep, made no indication that he was aware of the IV port nor the fluids that had been introduced into his system. His sweaty, unconscious form lay unnaturally still and for Dean, it was distressing. About a day ago, Dean had been waiting as his brother lay unconscious after seven weeks and now, not 24 hours later, Sam was unconscious again and Dean was waiting, not knowing if he would return safely to him.

Dean began pacing around Sam's bed, periodically looking out the window for signs of Tommy. The constant movement was helpful in keeping is anxiety in check.

Bobby dealt with his anxiety by checking the perimeter half hour and scoping out the motel and all its access points. He even wandered off into the woods trying to determine the best spot for a sharpshooter to set up, making a mental image should he need to engage. He moved the cars to different lots so as not to raise suspicion. And of course he ate. Eating was one of Bobby's number one ways of dealing with stress, his ample frame made that quite obvious. He projected a quiet confidence as much as he could, hoping to shore up Dean.

Eventually, Dean's strength began to wain, as his shoulder and fever sapped him of his last bit of strength. He wandered over to Sam's bed, sat down, and looked the kid over. Dean checked his IV and watched over his brother's sleeping frame as he settled down on the bed beside him and, after Bobby returned from his adventures and Dean had thoroughly threatened Bobby's life if he didn't wake him when Sam awoke, he settled down beside his brother and eventually dozed off.

**oooOOOooo**

**12:30 p.m - 26 ½ Hours into Withdrawal….(2 ½ Hours into the Peak) **

Dean had a sense he was being watched. He slowly opened his eyes and found his brother's staring straight into his own. Dean smiled warmly, surprised to see Sam awake, but pleased that his brother did not appear to be in pain. He lay relaxed as if lounging on a peaceful beach on some kind of tropical vacation.

"Hey" Dean pinged in barely a whisper wanting to make contact even if only for a moment.

Sam continued to stare. His eyes were hollowed out, clearly reflecting how sick he really was.

"You look tired, Sammy. Why don't you go back to sleep while the morphine's still working and you're not in pain," Dean encouraged softly.

Sam continued to stare.

Dean began to become unnerved.

"Sam?" Dean questioned as his eyes searched back and forth between his brothers.

Sam continued to stare.

"Sam!"the worried Winchester called as his eyes widened and he sat up.

Sam still made no response, only continued to stare.

"Jeezus, Bobby, something's wrong!" Dean called out as he reached to check his brother's pulse.

Bobby scrambled around to the other side of the bed to see what Dean was reacting to.

Dean took his brother's limp body in his arms and desperately tried to get him to respond.

"Sammy!" Dean continued to call out, growing more frantic with every minute.

"S'he breathing?" Bobby questioned when he saw Sam's blank stare.

Dean nodded. "Talk to me, Sam, damn it! Tell me what's going on!"

"Could it be a seizure?" Bobby questioned trying to wrack his brain of what could be happening. Morphine didn't have that kind of side affect.

"If it's a seizure, we need to time it," Dean stated adamantly. " More than 5 minutes, dial 911."

Dean immediately lowered Sam to the bed placing him on his side as he'd been instructed, with his head down, his jaw extended. Sam's limp body posed easily under Dean's control and it scared the crap out of him. He secured Sam's arms and legs and leaned down to look into his little brother's lifeless eyes.

Bobby held up his watch and began keeping track.

"C'mon Sammy, look at me, kiddo, c'mon, c'mon," Dean coached hoping his voice could reach in and pull his brother out of the crevasse in the lost world he seemed to have fallen into.

"How long's it been?" Dean questioned nervously.

"15 seconds" Bobby reported. "How long before we timed?"

"Damn it!" Dean swore blaming himself for not having been awake to notice. " I don't know when it started. I woke up and he was like this! Shit! It could already be past 5 minutes for all we know!"

"C'mon, little brother, snap out of it." Dean reached over and checked his brother's pulse again.

Sam continued his empty stare which seemed to somehow remain fixed on Dean, like a creepy portrait whose eyes seem to follow you no matter where you go in a room.

"Sam! C'mon damn it!? Don't do this…...d-don't you do this! " Dean's voice cracked as tears stung his eyes.

"75 seconds," Bobby's anxious voice called out.

He started to panic and began shaking Sam, desperate to get his sibling to respond.

Sam suddenly blinked and Dean froze. He eased up on his brother's arm and got down in his little brother's face. "Sammy?"

Sam's eyes responded to Dean's movement.

"Sam?"

Then the beautiful hazel orbs took on the warmth of his brother's presence once again and Dean felt relief wash over his anxious body, taking all the fear that had built up in the past eighty seconds away.

"Hey?" Dean questioned desperately needing a response from his brother.

"mm," Sam managed to get out. The pain medication in his system was clouding his ability to speak or command his body regarding his mind's wishes and he felt himself once again drift off to sleep.

Dean sat watching Sam unable to move for a moment. Bobby lowered his watch and took a deep breath. Both sunk into the bed and sat silently for a minute.

After covering his brother and checking his pulse, Dean rose and began pacing like a caged lion.

Bobby watched for a while, figuring the boy needed to work this whole thing out in his own way, but eventually, when he saw a worn path in the tacky orange carpet beneath his feet, felt obligated to say something.

"Dean, that's not gonna help your brother any, son. You should rest while he rests. He's gonna need you later."

"I thought he was dead, Bobby." Dean declared as he paced over to the window.

"I saw his blank eyes staring at me," he added on the way back to Sam's bed.

"I can't get them out of my head," he lamented placing both hands over his eyes and moving over to the window again.

"I can picture him dead in my mind!" he paced back, rubbing his hands through his hair and then throwing them down at his side.

His body began shaking and he appeared to wobble on his feet.

"You need to rest, Dean," Bobby cautioned as he rose and made his way over to him. He was worried the young man might fall over.

"I'm not gonna freakin rest! Not till this whole thing is over," Dean growled angrily backing away from Bobby's reaching arms.

"I wish I could raise Gordon from the dead, just so I could kill the son of a bitch again!" he hollered as he paced back over to the window.

Dean was starting to buckle and Bobby knew he needed some shoring up, but for now, the best thing he could do was be a sounding board.

Dean finally turned to Bobby as seven weeks of anguish, pain, and fear that had been bottled up gushed out and sprayed in every direction.

"This is insane! It's so wrong! So damn wrong!," Dean yelled as he punched the wall. "This whole demon crap, I'm so sick of it!" he spat out in anger as he turned around facing Bobby and paced back to Sam.

He raised his hand up and out, extending it towards his little brother's unconscious body, helpless on the bed. "I can't stand watching this whole thing destroy him!"

"And those sons of bitches hunting him," Dean whipped out his gun and shook it in his hand, " so help me I will kill every one of them. They'll never get their damn hands on him again!"

Dean continued pacing until his fever, exhaustion and rage completely wore him out and his speed began to slowly decrease with every lap.

Bobby just sat and watched, fearing his collapse, while periodically looking over at Sam to be sure he was still breathing.

Eventually, Dean stopped, leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. His weapon held loosely in his hand, came to rest on the top of his right thigh. Tears stung his eyes as he looked over to Bobby, his eyes begging for understanding and for help.

"I saw his eyes," Dean whispered, revealing the pain that had brought out the tirade that had just blown over. "I thought he was dead."

Bobby nodded with understanding as he moved over to Dean. "He's still with us and he still needs you," he stated gently as he extended his hand out to Dean.

Dean nodded trying to wrap his destroyed heart around the hope Bobby was attempting to offer him. It was what he needed to hear. '_Sam is alive and he needs me'_ he repeated in his head.

He smiled weakly at Bobby and received the hand that Bobby offered to him and pulled himself up.

Bobby reached over quickly before the hunter could refuse and felt Dean's forehead.

"You're burning up, son. Take another antibiotic and something for the fever," Bobby mother hen-ed.

Dean rolled his eyes, but obliged. Sam still needed him and he had to be well enough to continue walking beside his brother through hell and carry his safely back out.

oooOOOooo

4 p.m. - 30 Hours into Withdrawal (6 Hours into the Peak)

Sam awoke to a world of pain. His body felt like it was literally being electrocuted as white pain seared through all the nerves into every possible fiber of his being. It was so intolerable his mouth opened up to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, he writhed on the bed, gasping, unable to hold a coherent thought long enough to pray for it to stop.

"Bobby, now!" a familiar voice broke through the gates of hell and reached into his tortured world. Its distance was intolerable and it seemed to be fading even further away.

"Dean!" he heard a voice cry out. The word seemed to come from his mouth instinctively.

"Damn it, Bobby, give me the needle," the familiar voice broke through once again.

Sam felt his arms and legs being forcefully pinned down. The contact with his skin was painful, as if flames of fire licked where he was touched, and he struggled to free himself from the overpowering control as the electricity continued to sear and burn his agonized body. He wanted to cry out to the voice for help, but he couldn't breathe and couldn't speak. A sharp pierce to his arm added to the other excruciating sensations and his body began to jerk violently. He felt it tightening and releasing, uncontrollably, in such quick succession that he felt his body might literally snap. Flaming hands once again assault him, turning him on his side against his will and pinning him there, his head held down, his mouth pulled forward. He tried to fight, but every movement brought suffering.

Suddenly, his chest seized and he felt himself unable to expand it. He tried to open his mouth, but it was locked, biting mercilessly through is tongue. He felt a warm coppery liquid filling his mouth, threatening to drown him. Still his chest would not move.

"God! He's not breathing, damn it. Sam! Breathe! C'mon damn it, breathe!" Dean hollered out rubbing his brother's chest trying to get it to release its rigid contraction. "Don't do this! Don't you do this," the panicked Winchester cried out.

Bobby held Sam on his side and tried to still his jerking legs. When he heard Sam wasn't breathing, he moved up towards his chest. He quickly took over for Sam's head and jaw to free up Dean to work on his little brother's chest.

Sam felt his lungs start to scream for air as he struggled to breathe with what felt like a vice clamping down on his chest.

Dean rubbed his brother's chest frantically while Bobby held his head down, forcing his jaw forward so he wouldn't swallow his tongue. Blood started running down Sam's mouth from his clearly punctured tongue.

"God, Dean, he's bleeding from his mouth," Bobby called out as he tried to hold Sam's face in his hand.

Panic began smothering Dean and he found himself unable to breathe as he felt his brother's life slipping out from beneath his trembling fingers. "No, Sam, no! You fight this! You hear me little brother? You fight this!"

Dean watched in sheer terror when Sam didn't respond.

"Damn it, Bobby, call 911!"

Bobby released his hold on Sam's head as Dean quickly moved in to replace him. Sam's blood oozed out between Dean's fingers as he held his brother's chin up and head down trying to keep him from swallowing his tongue. He continued to rub his brother's chest trying desperately to get the muscles to relax their rigidity and he began to ask whoever might be listening to save his little brother.

Suddenly, as if some miracle had been granted, the morphine began to work its magic. Sam began to feel the searing pain lessen into needle-like pricks, then gradually give way to a prickling, tingling sensation and eventually, a dull ache. The jerking ceased, the fiery hands became warm and almost welcomed as they seemed to be more soothing than hurting. And the voice that seemed so far away that he so desperately wanted to hear and understand became close and constant.

"Wait, Bobby, wait!" Dean hollered out as Bobby began his dialing. Bobby hung up and waited anxiously for directions.

"C'mon, Sammy, c'mon. That's it, slow it down. Easy, just breathe. Try to relax. …. Get me some water and a cool cloth, will ya Bobby?... Sammy? Can you hear me? Sam?"

Sam recognized the voice to be his brother's. He wanted to answer his call, to tell him he was there, but his body was shutting down from the trauma it had just endured and he felt his brother's voice once again disappear off in the distance beyond his reach, and himself drifting off to an unwanted sleep.

Dean crumpled down in the bed beside his brother literally shaking. He sat there dazed, speechless as he kept watch over his little brother's chest, fearful that if he should look away, even for a moment, that it might cease to rise and his brother would slip off into eternity without him.

Bobby brought Dean the water and the cloth he had requested and removed the empty morphine needle that had been haphazardly thrown onto the bed when Sam's body had started to convulse. Then he began looking over the youngest Winchester's frame.

"He's out," he whispered gently to Dean who sat almost catatonicly on the bed beside his little brother.

Dean nodded numbly and pushed his brother's sweaty bangs off to the side. He took the rag and gently wiped his forehead, being careful not to disturb the Steri-strips, his cheeks and his neck. He cleaned the blood from his lips and sought out the source.

"Blood's not from his lungs. He bit his tongue, looks like almost clean through," he signed sadly.

Bobby stood silently beside Dean and gently put his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean reached up and put his hand on top and nodded. They had survived one of many yet to come and some that had already passed.

"How long this time?"

"4 ½ minutes" Bobby replied.

"How many hours?"

"Thirty"

Dean nodded his head sadly knowing they had another six hours to go.

He began covering his brother's trembling, still suffering frame with the blankets that had been thrown aside to come to his aid. Sam seemed so young, so sick, so vulnerable. Dean had thought it unbearable to watch his brother beaten and broken in the roadhouse, then intolerable to see him asleep for weeks, not knowing if he would ever wake and whether he would be himself or brain damaged…now this, to see him suffer such agony, unjustly, relentlessly for hours, was more than he could take and he found his very being shattering from the inside. This time had been the worst. The pain had never brought on a convulsion so intense before and his brother had never been so agonized, nor his life so threatened. Sam was now at his maximum for morphine and yet it wasn't enough. The tremors that had subsided before from the drug, continued to assault Sam's tortured frame even in his unconscious state. His face that used to lay relaxed under the medication, was taut, drawn tight in pain. Dean wanted to help Sam more, but to give any additional morphine, he feared, would be dangerous in Sam's already feeble condition.

After watching Sam for a while, being assured that at least for the moment his brother was unaware of his suffering and not in any immediate danger, Dean rested his arm on his brother's and settled in beside him ready and waiting, should his brother need him again.

Unknowingly, his shattered mind and body eventually drifted of to a restless sleep.

Bobby moved to the window to give a quick check and then sat in Dean's chair beside the bed and watched over both of the Winchester boys.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean and Bobby struggled to keep Sam alive for the next 6 hours, but true to the good doctor's word, as if on cue, Sam's last convulsion occurred on the 36th hour. Having almost swallowed his tongue and nearly suffocated, he somehow had managed to stay alive.

Dean and Bobby began reducing the morphine over the next few hours until Sam was completely free of its sedating and pain relieving affects. Sam periodically trembled, but clearly was past the worst of it. Dean introduced a fluid IV anxious to return his brother's body to a state of balance now that his brother was not going to tear it out again thrashing and convulsing.

Sam was exhausted to say the least. He periodically opened his eyes, but moments later would drift off again.

Dean tried to be within visual range each time his little brother stirred so that Sam could see him. At first, his brother's eyes shut so quickly, Dean couldn't tell if Sammy knew he was there. Eventually, the two managed to exchange glances that indicated there had been contact, that Sam didn't just 'see' Dean, but knew his brother was there with him, beside him. It was in those moments that Dean felt his brother was returning to him and he found them both hopeful and painful, hopeful Sam was returning, painful to see him slip away seconds later.

**oooOOOooo**

Forty eight hours from having his body torn cruelly from his chemical dependence, Sam's chemistry finally returned to normal.

Sam opened his eyes and Dean immediately moved to be within his sight.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean pinged.

The corner of Sam's mouth curled up slightly, acknowledging his presence and Dean smiled, but instead of his eyes closing again as they had so many times before, Sam continued looking at his brother, searching his eyes as if looking right through him to his soul, to the depths of his heart needing to bask in the security of his brother's care and love.

Dean sat down close beside him and continued looking back, allowing his brother's inspection and his soul to be laid open. Normally Dean would not have been able to be so vulnerable, but something in Sam's eyes begged him too. Dean could see a deep sadness within Sam and he knew his little brother needed to connect with him heart to heart.

After a minute of searching, Sam's eyes slowly released their hold on his brother and dared to moved away and he began to take in the room around him.

"Gonna try the world on the other side of your eyelids for a change?" Dean softly questioned.

Sam swallowed and dropped his gaze. He wasn't really sure he wanted to be on the other side or on any side of life, for that matter. His body was exhausted from all he had just suffered, too fragile, from his seven week drugged 'hibernation', as Dean had called it, to be of any use to him, and his mind just wasn't sure it could deal with what lay ahead…today, tomorrow, or any other day in the future. Sam closed his eyes as the sting of tears, threatening to be released, prickled in the corners.

Slowly, without his consent, they began to fall.

Dean, seeing his brother suffering in a way he wasn't able to easily fix, moved in and put his hand on his little brother's head, his thumb on Sam's forehead.

"I know. I know. Just let it go, little brother, let it go," Dean whispered as he let it go along with him.

TBC

Thanks for reading! I'll look forward to hearing from you!! Rachelly


	14. Empty

**Previously On Supernatural Ambush**

"Hey kiddo. Deciding to try the world on the other side of your eyelids for a change? It's not so bad, give it a shot."

Sam swallowed and dropped his gaze. He wasn't really sure he wanted to be on the other side or on any side of life, for that matter. His body was exhausted from all he had just suffered, too fragile from his seven week drugged 'hibernation' as Dean had called it to be of any use to him, and his mind just wasn't sure it could deal with what lay ahead…today, tomorrow, or any day in the future. Sam closed his eyes as the sting of tears threatening to be released prickled in the corners . Slowly, without his consent, they began to fall.

Dean, seeing his brother suffering in a way he wasn't able to easily fix, moved in and put his arm on his little brother's shoulder.

"I know. I know. Let it go, Sam," Dean whispered as he let it go along with him.

**Chapter 14**

The morning sun began to make its way across the motel floor casting light on what appeared to be debris from a tornado that had recently ravaged the place. There were blankets on the floor, discarded glasses and newspaper pages strewn around the room, bags of food next to the table, and wrappers and medical supplies spread out on various surfaces. Three bodies lay sprawled out as well. Had it not been for the steady rise and fall of their sleeping chests, one might have assumed they were victims of the storm that had recently blown through.

Dean was the first to arise from the debris and he instinctively looked for Sam. His recovering sibling lay peacefully sleeping on the bed beside him. His brother's breathing was steady, his face relaxed, his body still, not trembling steadily as it had been earlier. His face was pale, dark circles under his eyes offered a painful reminder that the kid had recently been through hell.

Dean checked Sam's IV and was pleased to see Bobby had changed it in the night. He gently put his fingers to Sammy's wrist to monitor his pulse. His sibling stirred slightly with his touch, but didn't awaken. Dean felt the steady thumping beneath his digits and timed them to his watch. Sam's heartbeat was slow, but steady, well within the appropriate range for a healthy person who was sleeping. Dean sighed and nodded. It was the first time he had been able to catch a glimpse of hope that they were gonna make it.

He began thinking of what would be next on his brother's path to recovery. When Sam woke up, he'd need to clean him up, put some fresh clothes on the kid and get him to eat some food. It was an important and essential step for his brother to be able to digest solid food so that he could remain with him and not have to be hospitalized.

Even with his enthusiasm for his brother's recovery from his chemical dependency and withdrawal, Dean couldn't help but wonder how Sam's internal withdrawal was going after seeing his brother break down the night before. The kid was clearly suffering from all he had been through and had a lot to work out in his head and heart. Sam was a survivor, of that Dean was sure, having seen his brother rise up from the ashes of Jessica's death and their dad's, but, with all Sam had suffered, he couldn't help but wonder if his little brother might have reached his breaking point.

Dean glanced over to Bobby who lie sleeping, weapon in hand, in the chair beside Sam. It was obvious he had been up all night checking the perimeter for the sharpshooter and watching over Sam. The guy looked beat and Dean decided to let him rest.

Gliding over to the window, Dean pulled back the wispy curtain and did a visual check of the parking lot and the woods behind the motel. Things were pretty quiet for (Dean glanced at his watch) eight thirty in the morning and it made it easier for him to check for any unusual activity.

Finding nothing in particular to focus on, he began rummaging through the half empty grocery bags and pulled out an apple. He glanced annoyingly over to Bobby who lay snoring up a storm. He definitely needed to do the next grocery run. An apple for breakfast was just way too healthy for his taste. He preferred left over, cold pizza actually. He was hungry enough that he considered trying a jar of baby food, but upon studying its contents, he quickly lost his appetite.

Sam stirred. He moved his hands up to his face, rubbed his eyes, paused them there, and took a deep breath.

Dean heard him sigh, and moved over, positioning himself on the bed beside brother.

Sam felt the movement of the bed, swept his hands down his cheeks and looked over in his brother's direction.

"Hey," Dean offered once their eyes met. He searched his little brother's eyes for tears.

"Hey," Sam echoed softly moving his eyes from his brother's gaze and landing them on the bed covers by his hands.

Dean detected his brother's despondency.

Normally, he would have let it go. When Sam got moody, the best thing to do was let the kid withdraw a bit and work things out in his mind. Then, when he was ready, Sam would initiate a conversation to run his thoughts past Dean. It was almost an unwritten rule, a pattern the boys had gotten into that worked well for the both of them. But this time, seeing Sam withdraw was just too painful for Dean and he didn't want his little brother alone in his head. After all he'd been through, he wasn't sure it was a safe place for his sibling to be lurking alone.

"So, uh, how ya doin?" Dean asked daring to change their patterns of communication.

"Okay," Sam uttered unenthusiastically.

Dean hesitated, recognizing his brother's unrevealing response to be a sign the kid wanted to submerge and run silent for a while. After a moment, he decided to press on anyways.

"_Okay_, as in really okay? Or _Okay _as in 'Lay off, Dean and leave me alone', okay."

Sam's lips curled slightly up in the corners. "Does it really matter? Cuz if it is the 'Leave me alone' okay, are you actually going to do it?"

Dean looked up pretending to give it some consideration. "Ah….. no."

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he wanted Dean to leave him alone. Fact was, he just wanted life to leave him alone and take all its evil, its demons and hunters, vampires and ghosts, pain and destiny with it. He felt hollow inside, unable to deal with any of it.

"So now that we've gotten that out of the way, what's on your mind?" Dean pressed on.

Sam cocked his head and fiddled with his blanket running his finger along the ridges of the fabric.

"Guess that's just it," he said with soft, sad eyes. "There's just nothing on my mind." He looked over to Dean for some sort of understanding.

Dean sat silently waiting for Sam to clarify.

"S'like I'm here, but I'm not. You know? Like I'm empty….. inside."

Sam looked back down to the blanket and started fiddling again. His eyes began to tear up.

Dean nodded his head. "You know, I remember feeling that way, before, when mom died. I hurt so bad inside, felt so alone and scared. My whole world fell apart in one night and I couldn't do anything to put it back together. Sometimes I felt powerless and hopeless and sometimes I just felt empty."

Sam eyes met Dean's and he literally felt his brother's pain, the pain of being the victim of a horrible experience, of being alone and scared and feeling like your world had fallen apart and there was nothing you could do to fix it, and the pain of emptiness.

A tear rolled slowly down Sam's cheek. He hurt for his brother and he hurt himself.

The agony of being cruelly beaten by Jake and the other hunters, as they spewed condemning words of his collaboration with the demon, flooded his mind. He could still hear Jake's voice in his head as he mocked and toyed with him. His taunting words were so painful to hear over and over in his mind. Jess's death…all his fault….demon soldier…killed the baby…..evil….kill him!

He could physically feel pain in his body even now as he recalled the unbearable torture. First the beatings, then the crushing of his ribs and the excruciating pain of his lungs being stabbed over and over with each inhale and exhale of breath, the feeling of suffocating, the ice cold searing pain of a bullet cutting through the flesh of his thigh and then his shoulder, Dean's voice crying for him to hang on when it was simply too painful to do so.

But the worst of it all was watching Dean get beaten mercilessly because of him, his curse. He knew Jake was bent on killing his 'demon soldier' when he fired the weapon into his leg, but what horrified him was that he was going to be taking his brother with him to the grave. Because of his abilities, his brother and best friend was going to be murdered. It tore his soul in two and he remembered cursing his existence and something inside of him shattering.

Then what seemed like moments later, he awoke to discover he and his brother had managed to survive. Seven weeks had passed and their bodies were healing. The hunters had failed.

It was only as he lay, helpless in the hospital bed just prior to his escape that he came to realize that, though they hadn't succeeded in taking his life nor his brother's, they had succeed in taking something from him that stitches and time couldn't heal.

It wasn't something as simple as his sense of safety or his pride or even his sense of physical wellbeing, all of which could be recovered with a little work. No, somewhere, in the midst of all the torment when Sam felt his soul tearing and himself shattering on the inside, they had taken his sense of self. In order to survive all that had happened, he had so disconnected himself from who he was and what was happening around him, he had lost himself completely.

Now, unable to find the core of who he was, where his self worth, his passion for life, his resolve, his reason for being, his purpose and hope, all his humanity lay, he felt empty, almost soulless. He found himself questioning his identity, his worth, his right to live, his reason to go on, and he lacked the emotional energy to even know if he cared.

Dean watched a tear drop.

"So, what did you do? How did you….." Sam paused not sure how to say it.

"Get by?" Dean filled in.

Sam nodded.

"I didn't at first. I didn't really have anyone to turn to. Dad was destroyed and barely able to handle his own pain, definitely not able to handle mine. So I disconnected. I hid, Sammy, deep inside myself where I couldn't feel anything and nothing could ever touch or hurt me again."

Sam looked sadly at Dean. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't imagine…."

"But you know what pulled me out?" Dean interrupted not wanting to linger on his own pain, but focus on his brother's and helping him. "What reached inside and made me feel again, gave me hope and a purpose?"

Sam shook his head.

"You. You did that for me, Sammy. You were all needy and helpless and Dad was too lost in his own despair to take care of you. I found my reason for living ….in you."

Sam looked deep into Dean's eyes as they teared, searching back and forth between them. His eyes teared along with his big brother's. "I didn't know…." Sam whispered.

Dean nodded. "You got to find a reason for living, kiddo. When you find that, the emptiness will take care of itself. Now, I'm not saying I'm a reason for you to live, but I am saying you don't have to go it alone, to hide deep inside yourself and feel nothing until you find it like I did. We can face this mess together, you and me. I can help you find your purpose, your reason to go on. And I'm not talking going on as in surviving, either Sammy. We did surviving the past seven weeks. I'm talking living, Sam, finding your reason for living."

Sam whispered a relieved laugh and wiped his tears from his face. Dean had given him something to hold on to and something to believe in. He'd offered himself to hold on to and the hope that he would find a reason to live again and the emptiness would pass. His brother had reached down into his empty world and offered his hand. Dean was willing to pull him up, to walk with him, to help him find his way back. Sam didn't need to know his purpose or even have the reason for living figured out right now. All he needed to do was grasp his brother's hand, hold tight, and hope.

Dean extended his hand, palm open and up, in Sam's direction.

Sam reached out, grabbed his brother's wrist and wrapped his fingers around it. His wrist lay in his brother's open hand.

Dean grasped Sam's wrist tightly and nodded back at his little brother with a smile.

Dean knew it wasn't over for Sam. He'd been through way too much to expect an easy fix. The kid, just like himself, would probably have several layers of trauma to work through and it would take a long time to get through them, with lots of tears and pain along the way. But, it was good to know Sam had trusted him with the first, hope, and he was encouraged the rest would follow as well.

Sam smiled appreciatively at Dean.

"You want something to eat or drink, Sammy?" Dean questioned releasing his grasp, feeling unworthy of his brother's appreciation.

"Naw" Sam sighed and he began trying to right himself in bed.

Dean immediately placed his hands behind his back and attempted to lift him. Once sitting, Dean fluffed up the pillow behind him, grabbed the second one, and piled the two together. He helped Sam scoot back and lean against them.

"Thanks," Sam politely offered.

Dean nodded.

"For everything, I mean," Sam clarified wanting to be sure Dean understood it wasn't just a thanks for the pillow.

Dean smiled. "All in the job description, little brother."

"Somehow, I don't think raising your little brother from the dead is mentioned, even in the fine print," Sam tossed back.

Dean got up and moved to the window to do a check.

Sam glanced over to Bobby, whose slumped, sleeping body lay completely unaware in the chair near him. "S'he okay?"

"Yeah. I think we wore the guy out," Dean explained sympathetically.

Sam smiled. "Musta been you. I've been in bed this whole time."

Dean smiled, glad to see Sam lightening a bit, having his sense of humor. Humor doesn't come from emptiness. His little brother had grabbed hold and was daring to feel again.

Bobby suddenly stirred as if on cue. He snorted a bit and scratched his scruff, but eventually managed to open his eyes and straighten up a bit in his chair. He was surprised to find the two Winchester boys staring at him with goofy smiles on their faces.

"What are you boys staring at?" he gruffed.

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well what was soon to be coming from his sarcastic brother's mouth and feeling sorry the hunter had left the door wide open for him.

"Believe me, nothing much!" Dean quipped with a laugh.

Bobby groaned and then turned to Sam. "Hey, son, how are you feelin'?"

Dean looked at Sam curious to see his response.

Sam nodded his head. "Okay," he stated more determinedly.

Dean was tempted to ask his little brother which 'okay' it was, but his brother's corrective look told him not to go there.

"Said he's okay," Dean echoed back to Bobby feeling the need to hear it again himself.

"I'm tired, not deaf, Dean," the hunter grumbled out.

"You're grouchy is what you are," Dean commented back.

"See if I ever join you girls for a slumber party again," Bobby wisecracked.

Inside, the older hunter knew he wouldn't have missed helping the boys through this for the world, but open warm communication just wasn't his style.

Knowing full well what Bobby had done for them, the boys smiled appreciatively. Both felt grateful to the guy, but it was Sam who moved his mouth to speak up.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Ya love me," he interjected with a toothy smile before Sam had a chance to get a word out. He, like Dean, was not one to give or receive affection easily. He loved the boys and they loved him and that was that, nothing needed to be said.

Sam on the other hand, was the opposite. He was usually the one who expressed affection and appreciation, but, wanting to honor his friend's wishes, he compromised with a thank you.

Dean looked eagerly over to Bobby, not wanting to miss the old hunter squirm under the acknowledgement.

Bobby, knowing about Sam's expressiveness, bowed his head slightly and received his acknowledgement. Then he quickly made a move to focus attentions elsewhere, specifically on the smirking young hunter before him.

"How's the shoulder, Dean?" Bobby questioned, already anticipating his usual brush off.

"Fine," Dean answered with a deer in the headlights look having wondered how the heck the attention had suddenly swung in his direction. He had no intention of letting Bobby focus on his health.

Bobby stood up and moved over to the young hunter to take a look.

"I'm fine. Really," Dean repeated telling the elder hunter not to bother pursuing his concern.

Sam studied his brother's face. "Dean, please, just let him take a look, alright?"

Dean would have refuted, but something in his brother's voice wouldn't let him. It was a deep seated concern laced with worry and fear. The kid had just been through hell and didn't need to worry about anything else.

Bobby stood near Dean and waited for his decision. Dean glanced down at Sam and his beckoning eyes.

Dean frowned. "Yeah, alright."

Bobby moved in.

After thoroughly examining the wound and the surrounding tissues, Bobby smiled.

Dean's shoulder was fairing pretty well. The fever that had been raging through his body and the redness indicative of infection around his wound were both gone. Even though the antibiotics and additional rest last night had been extremely helpful to the young man as he began his recovery, Bobby knew it was Sam's recovery that had turned the corner for the eldest Winchester.

He quickly reached up to check Dean's forehead for fever, not expecting to find one, but trying to be thorough.

Dean balked, but when he looked at Sam's concerned and waiting eyes, he sighed and moved his head into Bobby's hand.

"Okay, Grandma? Are we good?"

"It's Dr. Grandma to you!" Bobby grumbled back.

"Well?" Sam whispered wanting to know if his brother was okay.

"He's good, Sam…..well, as good as Dean could ever be, that is," he quipped sarcastically winking at Sam.

"Alright ladies, are we finished here, huh?" Dean heckled growing uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving.

"Ah, Dean, I uh….." Sam paused seemingly hesitant to continue.

Dean looked over at his brother with a 'what' expression.

Sam gestured with his head towards the bathroom.

"Oh, right," Dean acknowledged as he walked over to his brother and helped him rise. The two struggled as if in a three legged race, but eventually managed to make it.

Sam insisted on having Dean wait outside this time, which was a good sign, Dean figured, that his brother was either feeling better or at least feeling self-conscious which would be a good sign the kid was no longer empty, but starting to feel a sense of pride coming back.

It was hard, but the elder brother allowed Sam to give it a try.

The kid was in the bathroom way longer than Dean would have liked. Dean listened intently on the opposite side of the door to be sure his little brother was alright.

At first he heard quiet resolve on his brother's part to be successful. A few gasped escaped his brother's mouth, obviously from his injuries that were still inflicting pain. After a few minutes, the kid started swearing and Dean became nervous. And soon, the room grew quiet.

"Sammy? You okay in there?" Dean questioned calmly.

Sam did not respond.

"Sam?"

Dean pressed his ear against the door, but couldn't hear anything.

"C'mon man, are you okay?" Dean questioned a bit more nervously as he glanced over at Bobby with concern in his eyes.

Bobby rose to his feet and began moving towards Dean.

"I'm coming in, alright?"

He paused giving his brother one last chance to answer before he invaded his privacy.

Dean reached for the knob and turned the handle and carefully opened the door not wanting to knock his brother to the floor if he were on the opposite side.

Bobby waited back, not wanting to embarrass Sam if he were not decent.

To Dean's dismay, his brother sat literally in a crumpled heap on the linoleum floor, fully dressed, and utterly exhausted, unable to speak let alone move. His arms lay loosely at his sides, is head rested back against the edge of the tub. His injured leg was folded painfully beneath him, his good one straight out in front.

"God, Sammy," Dean whispered as he crouched down to check his brother out.

The stricken hunter's eyes moved sluggishly towards his brother's voice.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean whispered as he checked over his brother's body for injuries trying to determine if he had passed out and fallen or simply sunk to the floor. He found no lumps or marks of any kind to indicate he was in any way harmed.

Sam fixed his eyes on Dean.

"Sammy, you hear me?" Dean questioned placing his face directly over his brothers. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Huh? What happened?"

"Fell," Sam whispered breathlessly.

"Are you hurt?" Dean questioned worriedly.

Sam nodded slowly.

"Where, Sammy, where?"

"Leg," Sam whispered again.

Dean nodded.

"Bobby, help me out in here, okay?"

Bobby immediately stepped in the small bathroom to assist.

"Watch his leg," Dean warned the man as he struggled in the small confines of the room to navigate into a position to be helpful.

A tremor suddenly passed through Sam and he shivered and tensed.

Dean checked his brother's pulse and was surprised to see it was actually quite fast for just sitting on the floor. His brother's skin was sweaty and a second tremor shivered through him. It was obvious Sam was suffering a post addictive seizure of some kind.

"You're gonna be okay, Sammy. We're gonna get you up and back to bed. You just lie still and let us do the work, alright?"

Sam nodded again as a third tremor passed through him.

"Sorry, Sammy. Easy, just try to relax," Dean uttered compassionately to his trembling brother.

"Bobby, I need you to lift him up enough that I can straighten his leg," Dean directed.

Bobby obliged by crawling in the tub and slipping his hands under Sam's arms and around his chest and then gently lifted up holding the boy close to his chest. Sam trembled in his arms.

Dean, as gently and as quickly as he could, straightened Sam's leg, grabbed hold of both knees, and lifted. Sam winced in pain from the movements.

"Let's go," Dean directed, eager to get to the bed quickly to prevent his brother from suffering any more pain.

"You're gonna be okay, Sammy. Just hold on. We're almost there."

Dean encouraged Sam the rest of the way to the bed where he and Bobby carefully lowered him. The two hunters began assessing his condition again. Dean checked his pulse. Bobby checked his pupils, concerned by Sam's position on the tub, that he may have hit his head.

"Well?" Dean questioned Bobby nervously.

"Looks good. Pulse?"

" Fast, but okay."

Sam began to fall asleep.

"Sammy? Hey! Stay with me for another minute okay? Huh?" Dean called out.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

"Are you hurting anywhere?"

Sam closed his eyes and barely shook his head no, before falling asleep.

Dean cursed himself for being stupid enough to let Sam's blossoming pride cloud his judgment. Sure he wanted his brother to feel something, anything rather than emptiness, but this was not going to help the kid find his way back to himself. _Damn it!_ He had forgotten that withdrawal symptoms can linger for a week or more beyond the peak. His brother had just suffered one of probably many relapses yet to come and he should have been more careful with him.

Bobby rose and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, knowing full well the young man was blaming himself for Sam's collapse and 'failure'.

"You had to let him try, son. There are gonna be a lot of successes and failures over the next few weeks, but if you don't let him try, he'll lose his will power."

The words were kind and true, but Dean could not receive them.

Bobby shook his head and settled back down in the chair.

oooOOOooo

Several hours later, Sam jerked awake when another residual tremor suddenly worked its way through his body, once again bringing back the painful reality of his 'failure' only a few hours before.

Sam didn't wince, but it was painful for Dean to watch, none the less, because Sam just took it, without complaint, as if he somehow deserved it or maybe even welcomed it. That troubled the elder sibling. His brother's countenance had dramatically changed.

"Want another blanket?" Dean asked as he pulled the covers up over his brother's sitting form feeling the need to offer comfort to his seemingly irritated sibling.

Sam shook his head almost defiantly.

"How 'bout something to eat?" Dean questioned knowing his brother needed to eat and hoping a little food might help lift his spirits.

"No," Sam adamantly stated.

"Look, Sammy, ya gotta eat something. Get back your strength, kiddo, so you can get better," Dean pressed.

Sam looked down. Another residual tremor shivered through him.

"Sam?" Dean questioned worriedly when his brother didn't respond.

"Maybe I don't want to get better," he lashed out.

Dean physically looked like he was in pain when he heard his little brother's words, like someone had literally stabbed him in the heart. It was obvious his little brother had discovered a new painful layer, and this one he was handling dangerously.

"What?" he whispered back trying to keep his voice steady and calm. He was desperately trying to figure out where Sam was and how the hell to talk him out of the decision he was close to making.

Sam continued to stare at the bed. Bobby, sensing the boys needed to talk, went outside to search the perimeter. As soon as the door shut, Sam began.

"What's the point, Dean?" Sam questioned angrily.

"To live, Sam," Dean stated directly, almost as much an answer as a command. "Isn't that what we just decided you were going to do?"

"So what…. I can be hunted down for the rest of my life by some sharpshooter until I turn into God knows what?!!!"

Dean was silent for a second. This wasn't empty hopeless Sam speaking. This was more of an angry, scared shitless hopeless Sam. Sure Sam had grabbed hold of him and was seeking a purpose in life; there was passion and resolve, but it was aimed in the wrong direction. Refusing to eat was definitely not where his little brother needed to be.

"No, Sam, live so we can stop the damn hunter and prevent the demon's plan and you can have a life!"

Sam looked up at Dean. "How the hell am I gonna do that? I can barely even hold my head up let alone stand! I tried! I really did, but I couldn't even …" Sam emotionally choked on his words.

Dean watched as his little brother's anger suddenly faded into despair. "I can't, Dean," Sam concluded shaking his head. I just haven't got it in me."

"Well, I do," Dean emphatically stated, "enough for the both of us."

Dean took his brother's frightened face in his hands. "You're feeling helpless and scared. I get it, I do. But you gotta trust me, Sammy. Can you do that? Can you trust me? You've been through hell. You been tortured and drugged…" Dean's voice hitched, Sam began to tear and he grasped his brother's shirt in his fists and held on, " and you can't see straight. Of course ya can't take on the sharpshooter and the demon right now."

Sam started to look down. Dean let go of his little brother's face and placed his hands gently on his shoulders. His voice softened as he continued to try to reach his little brother's heart.

"S'why me and Bobby are here. All you gotta do is take it one hour at a time. Let me handle the ones that comes after it on into the future till you are able to handle it yourself. You're willing to feel again, Sammy. That's good little brother, but don't let helplessness and fear be what you're relying on to choose whether to live or not. Rely on me to help you make that choice. Choose life and I'll help you find your reason for living."

Dean stopped and waited for Sam to respond. He held his breath. If Sam gave up now, the kid wouldn't make it. He was too weak, too sick.

Sam's tear filled eyes searched his brother's and he bit his lip carefully considering his brother's words. Dean seemed convinced there was hope for him, that the hunter could be stopped and the demon could be thwarted and even if either couldn't, all Dean was asking was for him to make it through the next hour and trust him with the rest.

Dean grew uncomfortable with Sam's hesitation, feeling like his life was going to be made or broken in the quiet seconds that were ticking by.

"Please, Sammy, I'm begging you here," Dean paused, closed his eyes, and reopened them. "Give me one hour at a time. Just one hour at a time," Dean pleaded for his brother's life as much as his own.

Sam softened when he heard Dean's heartfelt plea. He didn't know if he could do it…. for himself, but he knew he could try for Dean. One hour was a small enough piece of time to be manageable, right? Sam did trust Dean, completely, with his life. If his brother believed they could make it, he would accept that, even if he couldn't see a way out of the doom he felt overshadowing him.

Finally, he nodded.

Dean exhaled, patted his shoulder and nodded in sync with his brother. Sam trusted him with his life and Dean was pleased. "S'good, Sammy, that's good. I promise, you have my word, I will see you through this. I swear."

Sam smiled and nodded. "I know you will, Dean." Dean would see him through it, or die trying. Sam as not about to let that happen and he found the resolve he needed to make it through the next hour with his brother by his side, standing guard over the future.

"So, what do you got to eat?" Sam questioned trying to be cooperative and offer Dean a bone.

Dean enthusiastically moved over to the grocery bags haphazardly placed on the floor by the table. He reached inside and pulled out the rice cereal and a baby food jar. He turned around and announced the menu.

"Ah, rice cereal and some kind of green vegetable mush?" Dean declared sheepishly.

Sam stared at the choices his brother had in his hand. "Baby food?!! You've got to be kidding me…and this is the guy I'm trusting with my next hour?"

"Aw, c'mon Sammy. Don't tell me you haven't eyed this stuff in the grocery store but been too embarrassed to admit you wanted to try it," he teased trying to make light of a pretty crappy situation.

"You hate me, don't you?" Sam complained.

"Far from it little brother, far from it," Dean softly acknowledged.

Sam smiled warmly. Dean had just admitted he loved him in his own Dean kind of way and Sam decided eating baby food was worth it.

Dean recognized Sam's smile and his bold declaration and blushed. "Oh, god, kill me now."

Sam continued to smile at his brother's uncomfortableness. "What a guy has to go through to get his brother to admit he loves him."

"I didn't admit that! And I'll tell you what, don't even think twice about doing this whole nearly dying thing ever again! Twice in two months is enough."

"Hey, you did it to me twice."

"Yeah, well, it's okay when I do it, not when you do it."

"Says who?!!" Sam questioned incredulously.

"Me! And what I say goes."

"Since when?"

"Since the minute you turned your next hour over to me, that's when."

"I knew there was a catch. I just knew it. Damn. Ya think ya know a guy.."

Dean smiled and made Sam's 'feast'. He mixed the cereal with water and micro waved it along with the green vegetable mush. Then he pulled out a spoon and approached his brother, taking a seat in the chair beside him.

Sam shook his head as Dean loaded up the spoon and began flying it around and making airplane noises.

"Cut me a break! I'm not letting you feed me, dude," Sam declared.

"Aw, c'mon Sammy. You used to love when I did this, now open up."

Sam tightened his lips and reached for the spoon. Dean quickly yanked it away and laughed at his brother's inability to get it from him.

"Hey, this is a great way to start your physical therapy for your arms. C'mon Sammy try to get the spoon."

Sam looked at Dean with a 'just you wait' expression. He knew exactly how to get his brother to back off. He dropped his arms, suddenly, down at his sides and flopped his head back on his pillow.

Dean stilled immediately. "Sam?"

Sam lay quietly.

"Sammy? Hey? Hey?" Dean hollered as he rose to his feet and leaned over his brother.

Sam opened his eyes, reached out, and grabbed the spoon.

"That is so not cool," Dean hissed, "so not cool."

Sam smiled with is little victory in his hand and then looked at the sticky blob of food that didn't threaten to fall off the spoon even when held upside down. He was beginning to think that maybe his brother had won after all and he looked back up to Dean.

Dean stood over him with his hands folded in front of his chest, rocking on his heels and back to his toes with the biggest damn grin on his face. His eyebrows were up as he waited for his self-sufficient little brother to take his first self-sufficient bite.

Sam rolled his eyes, opened his mouth, and swallowed the warm, gooey blob, his pride along with it.

"mmmm," he sarcastically moaned. "s'good. You should try some."

"Ah, no. I think I'll pass. How's the tongue?"

"Don't ask," was Sam's only advice.

Knowing there was nothing to do for it since stitching was not an option, Dean had to let it go. It would heal in time, but be yet another painful reminder for a while of what had happened.

Dean set the cereal and the jar of vegetable goo on the bed next to Sammy and sat down. It was hard to watch his brother struggle to feed himself, especially when he was growing tired, but he knew Sam's pride and the need to accomplish something for himself was important and he held himself back from helping.

After eating and taking a drink, Dean removed the IV port from his arm and helped him lay back to sleep. He studied his face for a bit, watched a tremor shiver through him, and eventually once convinced he was asleep, readied to get cleaned up.

Bobby returned and reported that all was well outside, then questioned how things were inside. Dean told him Sam had eaten and was willing to fight back to health, at least for now. Bobby nodded, pleased and impressed that Dean was able to pull his brother back from the despair that was threatening to kill the kid when he had left.

"Good job, champ," Bobby encouraged.

Dean nodded. "Wasn't me. Sammy's one hell of a fighter," he declared proudly. " Don't know if I could get back up after being knocked down and ground into the dirt like he's been."

Bobby nodded. "You would, if you had one hell of a great big brother," Bobby added after seeing Dean brush off the fact that he was instrumental in helping Sam keep going.

"Hell, Bobby, you're not going soft on me are ya? Cuz, I don't think I could stand you going all girly on me."

Bobby snorted. Leave it to Dean to turn an offering of recognition into a moment of humiliation.

A smug look washed across Dean's face and he held it, daring Bobby to try to out wit him.

He opened his mouth to jab back, but nothing seemed to come to mind. Damn. The kid had gotten him again. "Smart, ass!"

"Thought so," Dean quipped as he strutted arrogantly into the bathroom to wash up.

TBC

**Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed!! Thought I'd dig into the emotional side of things in this chapter a bit as we build up towards one heck of an ending. Just curious, have you had enough angst and whumpage? Or do you want more? Just let me know….Smooth sailing for the boys or a rough, bumpy ride to the end? Rachelly

**Special Thanks** to all my reviewers! You guys keep me going! Well, you and all the virtual chocolate you've been sending me!


	15. A Shot In The Dark

**Chapter 15**

After Dean showered and changed, he decided it was time to get his little brother cleaned up as well. He knew it would take a lot out of Sam, but his body was a mess. From the blood dried in his hair, to the hours of sweat accumulated from withdrawal, the kid looked like someone who had been living on the street for months, in sad need of care. Dean knew a part of moving on for Sam would be letting go of the past, and this was one part of the past both brothers were eager to wash away.

What normally might have been an embarrassing situation for both was not for either. Sam, too weak to attempt a bath or shower alone, needed Dean's assistance and was grateful for it, and Dean, seeing his little brother so helpless, didn't even notice the situation to have potential awkwardness. Sam needed Dean and that overrode any uncomfortableness either boy might have normally felt.

After helping Sam struggle, due to exhaustion, to put on clean sweats, Dean decided to finish dressing his sibling on the bed where he could lie down if he needed to. No longer having the strength to even walk with help, he and Bobby had to carry Sam there.

While Bobby held Sam in a seated position, Dean tried to put on a clean shirt. As Dean moved his brother's arm to put it into the sleeve of his shirt, the stretched muscle in Sam's shoulder where he'd been shot burned terribly. Sam tried not to grimace. He knew that it would only make Dean feel badly and cause his older brother to worry and he felt his brother had enough on his plate as it was. Unfortunately, his shoulder was uncooperative and a searing pain caused Sam to gasp.

Dean winced in sympathy, frowned and shook his head. "Sorry, Sammy," he whispered gently as Bobby placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Sam nodded and bit his lip, determined not to let another gasp escape.

Eventually, the arm was through and it was a matter of putting the second arm in and buttoning up. Sam swayed weakly under Dean's care. They had to stop a few times to allow a wave or two of tremors to shiver through him, a left over of his chemical addiction. Each wave seemed to come and go, taking whatever strength Sam had left with it. Somehow, between the three of them, the shirt was finally in place.

Exhausted, Sam began to collapse. His started to lean; his head tipped sideways and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Dean quickly grabbed his brother's body and with a little help from Bobby, guided him safely to a comfortable position on the pillows. He lifted Sam's wet head and resettled it. Sam opened his eyes briefly.

"You gonna be okay?"Dean asked, concerned after seeing his brother collapse as he did.

Sam nodded as his eyes began to blink more slowly and eventually closed for sleep.

Dean put his hand on Sam's forehead. "Sleep, easy, little brother."

Bobby watched Dean as the concern remained etched on his face long after Sam was clearly asleep.

"He'll be okay, Dean. Just needs a lot of rest. Take it slow. Let him set the pace."

oooOOOooo

About an hour later, after Bobby had showered and washed up, checked the perimeter and moved Dean's car back to the lot next door, he began to collect his things.

Bobby had offered to stay, to protect the boys should they need it, but Dean had requested the experienced hunter work on tracking down the sharpshooter. The sooner they could locate the hunter, the safer Sam would be.

The family friend, now packed and ready to go with his duffle in hand, turned to the eldest Winchester and the two stood silently for a moment, neither one expressive, both feeling the need to express.

Dean was sorry to see Bobby going. Though he was eager to get the sharpshooter, the man had been his rock the past few days and even the weeks before and for some reason he found it hard to part with him.

Bobby understood Dean's hesitations, finding it hard to leave himself. The boys had been through hell and it didn't seem right to be leaving them before he had brought them completely out. And, if he were to be honest with himself, he felt fatherly towards them and he worried about Dean. Dean was a lot like John, and like his father, he would shoulder the responsibilities that lay ahead to his own detriment. Though healing, Bobby knew Dean was not yet well and he felt like the kid still needed him.

As he stood near the door, he found himself compelled to offer a few last words of comfort and advice.

"You'll be okay, son. Sam's gonna be just fine. I know it. I'll be back soon. You'll be safe here. We'll get you boys in the apartment when I return."

Dean nodded, feeling somewhat embarrassed that his vulnerability had been pickup by the hunter.

"And get some rest. Your wound is looking good, but it needs time to heal. You tear the stitches or get another infection, you let Sam help you or you call me, okay?"

Dean nodded again.

Bobby continued.

"Keep an eye on the woods behind the lot here. The property rises steeply, practically eye level with the second floor, so keep watch."

He took Dean over to the window.

"See the rise to the right of the tall oak tree. If your sharpshooter does show up, that's where he'd get his best shot. You check there for footprints, cigars, gum, cigarettes, any signs that someone has been scoping. Don't worry about leaving Sam for brief periods of time to check it out. Sharpshooters don't usually want direct contact in their hunts. The chances of him coming in here for Sam are pretty low. Once Sam can handle his gun, he'll be okay while you slip out."

Dean nodded again. "Just find the guy, okay? And be careful. Sam and me…. we like to keep ya company when you read the paper," he quipped.

Bobby smiled. He had always suspected he and Sam had deliberately sabotaged his peace and quiet in the morning when they were younger.

"I'll find him, Dean," Bobby reassured. "He'll be expecting you, not me. Should be easier and safer that way."

"He's mine when you do," Dean warned as Bobby finally moved to leave.

Bobby nodded figuring Dean would feel that way.

"You boys be careful, keep your heads down. Tommy or whoever the hell he is, is a good shot. I'll let you know when I find him."

When he cracked the door, Sam stirred and opened his eyes.

Bobby glanced over with an apologetic look on his face.

Dean offered Bobby his hand. "Thanks, man."

The older hunter laughed, shook his hand, and uncharacteristically drew him in for a hug.

Dean melted for a moment as he remembered the last hug he had received from his father. Bobby wasn't his dad, but in a way he was family and it offered Dean a strength that was desperately needed. Dean had Sam's health, his safety, and his emotional well being to shoulder, his own physical condition and emotional state to manage as well.

Sam smiled warmly. It felt so good to see Dean cared for and Dean willing to be the receiver for a change. The younger sibling found new motivation to recover so he could free his brother of himself as a burden and focus on his older sibling's needs for a change.

Bobby turned to Sam. "I'd hug you too, if ya weren't so dang helpless all laid out on that bed invalid –like," he teased.

"I'll consider myself hugged." Sam offered with a smile.

"You do that…and get well, son."

With that, Bobby took off out the door.

Dean closed and locked it behind him and moved to the window to keep watch until the hunter safely disappeared out of sight.

"Think he'll be alright?" Sam asked gently. "Scoping out the sharpshooter and all?"

"You'd be surprised, Sam. He may be a bit up there age-wise, but he's one hell of a tracker. Knows his stuff. Tommy or whoever the hell the sharpshooter is shouldn't be looking for him. The element of surprise is an advantage."

Dean took a seat on the chair facing Sam.

Both boys just sat in silence for a moment. Dean enjoyed seeing his brother awake, clean, and rested, looking more like himself, and he found the familiarity of it being just he and Sam refreshing. Sam was glad to be alone with Dean, too. It wasn't that he didn't like Bobby, quite the opposite; he was very fond of the family friend. It was that it was a return to the life he had known prior to stepping foot inside the roadhouse and it felt good to get a sense that maybe one day, things would be normal again, well as normal as any day would be in the lives of the Winchester brothers.

**oooOOOooo**

The boys spent the next few days hidden in the motel, resting, recovering and anxiously waiting to hear from Bobby. Time seemed to pass slowly and as the Winchesters grew in strength, they also grew in boredom as well. Neither one was very good at being cooped up.

Sam passed time looking for water stains and constellations on the rough accoustic ceiling above where he lay. He found Orion, Leo, and several other star groupings in the bumpy ceiling surface and was amused that a few of them were actually in correct alignment with each other. Less entertaining was the fact that he counted the water stains on the ceiling at least a hundred times and got a different number each time. He was convinced there was a leaky pipe somewhere in the ceiling adding to the count hourly, though Dean begged to differ with him, suggesting the leaky pipe was in his mind.

Dean discovered that he could tell time based on where the sun's rays fell on the tacky orange carpet as it inched its way across the motel floor. When it was at the end of the bed, Sam got breakfast, on the windowsill, lunch, and when it fell on the tree line behind the motel, dinner. Somewhere in between the bed and the windowsill, housekeeping always stopped by. Dean would exchange sheets and towels, but not allow anyone in the room and he always made sure Sam was hidden in the bathroom when he opened the door, just to be safe.

The only outing Dean dared to take was scouting as Bobby had suggested. He did so only when he was confident Sam was awake enough to defend himself, able to hold and aim his gun.

Dean followed Bobby's pursuit of the sharpshooter daily through phone conversations, but as of yet, nothing had turned up. Bobby remained hopeful, listing several other hunting hang outs he had yet to connect with, but Dean was growing anxious with each passing conversation.

Sam was improving daily. He was eating the baby food, much to his regret, and his body seemed to be processing it just fine. Dean decided there was no need to take Sam back to the hospital for blood work since the kid was doing so well and taking him outside would only endanger him unnecessarily.

Sam periodically struggled with relapses, though nothing like what had happened in the bathroom earlier. He still got a periodic tremor and shivered every now and then, but all in all, the only thing that seemed to linger was the exhaustion and some of that was due to his increased level of activity. Sam had succeeded in using the restroom, showering, and partially dressing himself and the independence brought both brothers great encouragement even with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow.

In some ways, it was probably good he was sometimes too tired to work through a lot of the emotional fall out. If everything hit him all at once, the kid would have clearly been plowed over. In other ways, the tiredness in and of itself was depressing, both to Sam and to Dean, who was always reminded in Sam's sleeping of just how seriously messed up his brother had been.

When Sam did have energy left over, he seemed to wander in and out of anger, fear, frustration, and despondency, while little by little becoming himself again. It was difficult to watch him struggle, but Dean knew it was all part of his brother's healing. The fact that Sam was feeling anything was good, that he was willing to wrestle with things, healthy. Dean tried to walk the road along side him which ever path he chose to take.

**oooOOOooo**

On the third afternoon, Sam lay unusually quiet, not sleeping, but definitely not interacting or being entertained by the ceiling either.

Dean tried to lay low and allow his brother to drift off, but it soon became obvious Sam was struggling with something.

Dean, wanting to walk with his brother down whatever path Sam was taking, initiated.

"Somethin on your mind?"

Sam looked over and shrugged.

Dean knew that meant 'Yes, just give me a minute' in Sammy speak and did just that.

After a minute, Sam began.

"I guess I was just thinking…"

Sam paused and Dean waited patiently.

"Do you think the sharpshooter's the last one? I mean like once we get him, we got them all?"

Dean paused, understanding his little brother's question, having wondered the same thing himself. Sam was feeling vulnerable and the thought of other hunters endlessly hunting him was frightening. Dean didn't know whether another hunter could one day decide to go on a misguided hunt, but he could speak about Jake and Gordon's pack.

"Gordon said there were three others besides himself, Sam. All, but one, are dead."

"The sharpshooter," Sam qualified.

"Yep. So, I'm thinking we take him down, we're done."

Dean looked at Sam to gage his reaction. His brother remained unusually quiet, not really showing the signs of relief Dean had hoped for.

"Sam?"

"Yeah," the younger sibling replied distractedly.

"What?"

"I don't know, man. It's just…..you think maybe they're right? About me……. being a soldier and someday helping the demon."

"Sam, n...," Dean tried to interject, but Sam pushed right on.

"Dean, Dad told you you might have to kill me. Maybe he knew about this and maybe it's true. If it is, we could be doing the wrong thing! I mean, here we are killing them all off ...what happens if they were right all along?"

"No, Sam, they're not!" Dean interrupted having heard enough. "You would **never** choose to help the demon. I know you, looks like better than you know yourself right now, and you would never do it!"

"But what if I don't have a choice? What if the demon has the power to somehow make me help him?" Sam questioned worriedly, looking up at Dean for him to say it wasn't so.

"I don't care what the damn demon said about his plans for you, Sammy. You have a choice. You always have a choice and I'm gonna make damn sure it stays that way."

Sam smiled, appreciative of his brother's bravado.

"Yeah, well, I hope so. Cuz otherwise, they would have had the right to do what they did to me."

"Jeezus, Sam. No. Bastards had no right to do what they did to you, no matter what happens in the future! It was wrong, man, cruel and sadistic, more demonic than anything I've ever seen in my entire life! You didn't deserve this and you never will. You tell yourself that, you hear me?!"

Dean spoke with such intensity and conviction that his body literally shook. The motion aggravated his shoulder.

Sam noticed Dean rubbing the area around his wound and grew concerned.

"You okay?" he questioned worriedly.

"Yeah, course," Dean quickly assured as he tried making a circular motion with his arm out, elbow bent hoping to release the stitch he was feeling. " I still can't believe Gordon got lucky. Son of a bitch. Shoulda figured the bastard had a knife."

Sam nodded amazed that Dean escaped this whole thing in the first place, though his brother had two shoulder injuries that said otherwise. A question, that had been rolling around in his thoughts finally surfaced when he considered Gordon's demise.

"So how'd ya do it?"

"Do what?" Dean questioned as he resettled his arm down on the chair.

"Take out the hunters back at the road house?" Sam added curious to hear his brother's explanation. "I remember some of it, but there were at least six left standing as I recall."

"Jake was arrogant, the hunters, emotional. Their hunting was based on gut, not on planning. In the end, it undid them," Dean stated matter-of-factly. He left out the part where he totally acted on gut and instinct to stop them.

Sam nodded, knowing all too well how heightened emotions could easily destroy a hunt. Their father had taught them that right from the beginning.

Dean paused and sighed. "You know, Sam, I couldn't have done it without Ellen or Jo. We owe them our lives."

Before the words had left his mouth, he cringed knowing all too well that Sam would take them to heart and blame himself. He hoped his brother might have been too deep in thought to have noticed.

"Sorry, Dean"

"For what?" Dean cursed himself for having brought it up.

"It was me they wanted. None of you should have had to deal with this."

"You shouldn't have had to deal with it either, Sam. Gordon and Jake were seriously messed up, dude, bent on some insane interpretation of what's going on, of who you really are.

"Yeah? And what's that? Some supernatural freak connected to a demon, who has plans for him?"

"No, Sam, a good kid with a good heart trying to make right, the things the demon is trying so damn hard to put wrong…… You're an asset. They just didn't realize it," he added with a twinkle in his eye.

"Did you just call me an ass?" Sam smiled teasingly.

"Yeah, well, if the horseshoe fits….."

Sam began to tire and his face clearly reflected his need for rest. Dean noticed his little brother's fatigue and grew concerned.

"You good, Sam?"

"Yeah, just tired s'all"

Dean leaned over his brother and felt his forehead for fever. Sam was cool.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam muttered.

The older brother in Dean couldn't help but kick in and he continued his Sammy Well-being Check.

"Any pain?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine."

Dean just stared, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to answer.

"Some, but not bad, okay?"

"How's the shoulder?"

Realizing it was easier to appease his brother once he got into protective mode than fight, Sam moved his elbow out and shoulder up a bit and pressed on the wound. "It's definitely there," he commented when it throbbed.

"How's the leg?"

"The muscles are tight, but…"

"We'll begin your PT program in a couple of days after you get more of your strength back," Dean concluded without letting Sam finish.

"Great," Sam declared sarcastically. He'd been through Dean's physical therapy sessions before. They were grueling and painful, but always did produce good results. "Can I get a different therapist? Dr. Torment-o has a bit of a sadistic side to him, I think."

"Cute. And no, same therapist! You should be thanking my ass for the last time I got you back on your feet…… better than new, if I recall."

Sam rolled his eyes and swallowed wrong. He began to cough.

"Sammy?" Dean worriedly called out.

Sam cleared his throat.

"Dean, enough. I just swallowed wrong, okay? I really am fine. Just tired…(cough)"

Dean looked suspiciously at Sam.

"…really…" Sam repeated.

"You better get some rest. Don't know how much time we got til Bobby gets back to us," Dean suggested after taking in his brother's overall tiredness.

"What about you? You look wiped, man, and Bobby said you needed rest too."

"Bobby was just looking for an excuse to boss me around. I'm fine, Sam."

"Dean. Seriously, you can't keep watch 24/7. It's been three days and you've barely slept at all. Give me a gun, take a rest and then we'll switch."

"Like that's gonna happen," Dean quipped sarcastically.

"What?"

"Sam, I'm not gonna lay down and sleep while you sit by the window and become target practice."

"Is that what this is about? You're afraid I'll get killed if I help. You can't keep me hidden in this room for the rest of my life, Dean. You're gonna have to let me help at some point."

"Maybe, when you're better," Dean grumbled.

"You mean once you kill the sharpshooter," Sam translated.

Dean looked down, not wanting to reveal his response. Truth was, that was exactly what he was planning to do….hide Sam out until he got the bastard. He'd nearly lost Sam at the roadhouse, in the hospital several times, during their escape, during his withdrawal seizures and he simply couldn't deal with his brother being in any situation that might threaten his life again, let alone put him into one.

"Dean?"

"Sam, you don't un-derstand," Dean's voice hitched and Sam could tell he was clearly upset.

"Understand what?" Sam asked gently.

"I can't…." Dean began, but hesitated not wanting to admit his weakness.

"Can't what?" Sam compassionately requested.

"Take a chance on losing you again, alright?!" Dean growled out revealing his greatest fear and hating himself for being so vulnerable in front of Sam.

Sam looked at his brother in silence, having not really realized the emotional toll all this was taking on him. He'd been so consumed with his own pain and finding his own way out of the emotional hole he'd fallen into that he'd not really noticed that Dean had fallen into one as well, a different one than he, but a hole just the same. Dean had admitted that he was his reason for living, for going on ever since Mom had died and now that Dad was gone, Sam was all he had left. In the past seven weeks, Dean had suffered the idea of losing Sam too many times and he couldn't handle one more.

Sam cursed himself for not having recognized his brother's pain earlier.

"Jeez, Dean. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I didn't think about how this was affecting you? I mean I knew you were hurt, physically, but…"

"Sam, you are all I have. Dad's gone. It's just us now, you and me, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and if that means I keep you hidden away in a motel until I get the sharpshooter, than so be it. Can you understand that?"

Sam felt touched by his brother's love and compassionately nodded.

"I'm willing to stay hidden for a while if you want me to, but I want you to take care of yourself, okay? You're all I have too," Sam said softly and smiled, choosing to be vulnerable on the same level as Dean had been.

Dean nodded and smiled, graciously accepting his brother's declaration and acceptance of his raw expression of feelings.

"Please, Dean, let me do something for you for a change? Huh? You rest, I'll stay awake and away from the window and keep watch."

"Sam, I'm fine."

"Me too," Sam muttered out daringly.

"Are not," Dean declared amazed Sam would even try to suggest he was.

"I'll rest when you rest," Sam childishly declared.

"What are you four?"

"And twenty," he added playfully.

Dean recognized his brother was not going to take no for an answer, so he decided to go along with him until the kid fell asleep. Always worked when Sammy was four. Dean would trick the kid into taking naps by pretending to nap with him. Soon as Sam drifted off, Dean was up and on his way.

"Okay, fine. I'll check outside while you rest and then I'll lay down when I get back. Deal?" Dean suggested crossing his fingers secretly at his side and smiling.

The younger sibling looked suspiciously at his suddenly all too agreeable brother.

"Dude, are you crossing your fingers or toes?"

Dean gave him a 'get real' look.

After studying his brother's expression and deciding he'd hold his ground when Dean returned if he didn't keep his end of the bargain, Sam nodded in acceptance and settled down under his covers.

Dean smiled, amazed that he could still con his little brother into taking a nap. He couldn't believe Sam was still so gullible. He placed a weapon on the bed beside his sibling and slipped out for a quick check, locking the door behind him. He returned about twenty minutes later to find Sam's eyes closed, clearly asleep. His weapon lay in his hand on his stomach, not in any position to defend himself had there been an intruder.

Dean shook his head. "So much for you keeping watch, kiddo," he whispered with a smile.

Dean settled down on the bed next to his sibling.

Realizing he truly was exhausted and fearing he might actually fall asleep, leaving Sam unprotected, he placed his knife under his pillow and shifted his gun from back to front tucked for easy reach just inside his waist band. He threw his over shirt on top to cover it and rested his hand over it. He shifted around a bit, but finally got comfortable and settled down.

Staring up at the ceiling, half tempted to count the water spots to see if there was any truth to Sam's leaky water pipe theory, Dean felt his little brother's eyes watching him.

"What?"

"Ya think the sharpshooter knows we're here?" Sam asked worriedly knowing his brother had just returned from surveilling and having seen his brother's weaponry preparations.

Dean cursed himself for not having been more discrete. Apparently he had awakened his brother when he laid down. He recognized Sam's anxiety and propped himself up.

"No, Sam, I don't. I think if he were, we'd know it by now."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes.

Dean watched his little brother for a moment and when he was convinced he was truly settling down, he laid back in bed. He was, however, unable to close his eyes. He didn't really know if the sharpshooter was around, but he hoped not. His palm rested once again securely on his piece.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean jumped, not realizing he had drifted off, when his cell phone sang out. He checked the screen and found Bobby's name scrolled across it. He glanced over to Sam and saw his brother was still sleeping, apparently undisturbed by the music.

"Yeah, man , what's up?"

"Dean, we got a problem," Bobby urgently called out.

Dean eyes widened as his heart began to beat rapidly fearing for his friend's well being.

"Are you alright?" the young hunter asked frantically.

"Tommy? He's not just a sharpshooter, Dean, he's military trained, one level down from Expert. He's had extensive training and is highly skilled in surveillance. He served in Afghanistan before he was dishonorably discharged for excessive use of force and misconduct. Apparently, he's using his 'skills' to hunt the supernatural now."

Dean sat up, his face etched in worry. He wiped his hand across mouth and carefully slid off the bed and towards the door trying to put enough distance between he and Sam so that the kid would remain sleeping, undisturbed by his side of the conversation. He didn't want his little brother to detect there was a problem.

"Anything else?" Dean questioned feeling like he had already heard more than he wanted to.

"According to one of the hunters here, he gets his kicks from laser tagging his targets just prior to assassination. Bastard likes to mess with their heads apparently, see them squirm before he takes them out limb by limb."

"Gordon said he was a sadistic bastard," Dean confirmed disgustedly.

"Dean, we've got even bigger problems than that. Apparently, he's capable of non-visual assassinations."

"What the hell is that?" Deans questioned anxiously.

"Means he doesn't need to see his target to take it out."

"How the hell do you shoot someone if you can't see them?!" Dean questioned trying to keep his voice soft and steady, his heart rate along with it.

"The guy is trained to calculate his target's position based on gathered intel. Using infra-red technology and carefully measured and mapped out schematics, he can make a hit without a clear visual. Supposedly even has a .50 caliber rifle which can shoot accurately from over a mile, through concrete. I checked with Joshua and according to him, our staying in one cookie cutter place increases his odds for success exponentially each day. Gives the guy way too much time to surveil and set up his hit. Bottom line, Dean, we gotta get Sam the hell out of there. Where you are….the motel….. throws way too much advantage in his favor. Have you seen any signs of him on the hillside?"

"No, checked a few hours ago. No foot prints, gum wrappers, cigars, cigarettes, nothing. What makes you think he even knows we're here?"

"Guy knows his stuff. His reputation is scary. If he's not there now, he will be soon."

"What about Joshua? Can he help?"

"He's gonna try to track him down for us so I can get back to you boys, but he said if Tommy's on the move looking for Sam, he's gonna be hard to find."

Dean remained quiet. Bobby detected his concern.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah"

"If anyone can find him, it's Joshua."

"Where you at?" Dean questioned anxiously finding Bobby's absence at the moment disheartening.

"I'm thirty minutes out. Keep an eye on the woods and stand guard. I'll get there as soon as I can. And start looking for an infrared 'eye'."

"Got it."

"Be careful, Dean."

"Always."

**oooOOOooo**

Thirty minutes later, Bobby keyed the lock and walked in. Dean had his weapon trained on the hunter who quickly closed and bolted the door behind him. Both signed with relief, Dean, that it was only Bobby at the door, Bobby, that the boys appeared unharmed. Bobby's relieved demeanor quickly changed to one of grave concern.

"He's here," Bobby declared softly, his eyes darkened, brows furrowed.

Dean's pupils doubled in size. "What?!" He ran to cover the window. Bobby moved with him.

"I just checked the perimeter. New tracks, not yours and there are small sunken holes in a triangular pattern…tripod marks. He's been lining up shot points."

"Dean wiped his hand across his face.

"Where," he questioned worriedly.

"Three places along the hillside, just where I showed ya."

"Damn it. I just checked about four hours ago. There was nothing. How the hell did he find us?"

"Does it matter?" Bobby asked frankly. "We can't stay here, Dean, and it's gonna be hellish hard to get Sam out of here. How's he doing?"

"S'weak, but we've made some progress. He can walk but still needs support. Definitely can't move quickly. I think his leg, hell his whole body will give out under him if we move him too fast."

"Damn," the normally calm hunter cursed. "The way I see it, we got two choices. Stay here and try to take the shooter down before he makes his move, or try to get Sam out now while it's dark."

"I think we should stay put. I don't want Sam out in the open, not with a sharpshooter on site."

Bobby nodded in agreement.

"We'll have to take shifts outside, keep watch and look for the chance to take him out."

Bobby nodded again. "We need to keep the lights off in the room, search for a sensor and rearrange the furniture."

Dean looked questioningly at Bobby.

"These rooms are all the same, Dean. Beds are all in the same location. He can figure out Sam's position on the bed with infra-red and take a fairly accurate shot, using whatever information he's gathered from any of the other rooms like ours, without ever actually seeing him. Remember….he's an expert at non-visual…"

"..assassinations. I know," Dean finished and bit his lip.

Feeling like it would be safer for Dean to remain inside with Sam, than out in the open hunting the hunter, Bobby suggested a plan.

"I'll take first watch outside, you get to rearranging and finding the damn sensor if there is one. Without it, the guy is half blind," Bobby initiated, "And get the lights out in here, just in case he decides to go the sadistic way and laser tag him before he does a visual shot."

Dean wiped his face again nervously. He didn't want Bobby outside as an easy target, but he couldn't leave Sammy inside either. His protective instincts wouldn't let him. He finally nodded, graciously accepting the hunter's willing sacrifice.

Something suddenly caught Dean's eye as it flickered over on the wall and moved down toward his sleeping brother on the bed. Dean glanced over to Sam to figure out what he had seen.

What he saw literally drained all the blood from his face. A red circle of light was moving across his brother's still form. It centered on his little brother's forehead and then ghosted down his left arm.

Before Dean could throw himself over his brother to protect him, he heard a "chink" and the sound of glass exploding, sending shards in all directions. When Bobby and Dean heard the window shatter, their hearts shattered along with it.

"Noooooo!" Dean screamed as the next few moments transpired in slow motion.

Dean watched in horror as Sam's left arm jerked and his body recoiled in pain. A red spot began forming on his little brother's arm, deep crimson blood began oozing out onto the bed.

"SAM!" he hollered as he threw himself over his brother, hoping to take the next hit for him and he struggled desperately to drag his wounded brother's body down onto the floor beside the bed. He quickly placed himself on top to shield him.

Sam, awakened by excruciating pain, the sound of shattering glass, and the impact of his brother's weight on his cracked ribs when he was thrown to the floor, cried out. He curled in on himself as the pain shattered his nerves and he desperately grabbed arm to stave off the blood which was now freely flowing.

Dean immediately scrambled to clamp his right hand over Sam's hemorrhaging forearm while he struggled to get his shirt off to use as a tourniquet with his left.

Bobby, now positioned at the glassless window with his weapon drawn, searched the hillside for the sharpshooter. He was desperate to keep whoever was trying to kill the boys from getting off another shot.

"fffft"

A cloud of cement scattered out from the wall into the room and Dean hollered out a curse.

Bobby fired off three shots in the directions of the tripod marks he had seen earlier. He detected slight movement in the woods off to the right and fired again. The movement continued on, unaffected by the bullet that had apparently missed. The darkness outside made it impossible for him to follow the moving figure with his eyes, but it was clear, the sharpshooter was no longer in position to take a measured shot.

Bobby swung his head around to check on the boys. His face was filled with terror. Dean lay on Sam beside the bed, pinning Sam protectively between himself and the floor. Blood on the sheets indicated that one of the brothers had been shot. He had heard the second shot as it ripped through the wall, but hadn't seen if it had met its mark.

Not able to leave his position at the window in case the sharpshooter should make a move toward the building, he had to watch from a distance to determine if the brothers were okay. Dean, based on his behavior, was struggling with his left shoulder. Sam's painfilled cry indicated he'd been hit as well.

"Dean!" Bobby called out wanting to know for sure how the boy was and Sam's condition.

"mgood," Dean answered as he attempted to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder and desperately care for his wounded sibling. He finally succeeded in removing his shirt.

"D-Dean?" Sam questioned worriedly between gasps as his body trembled from shock. He'd felt his brother jerk and heard him swear and feared he might have been shot.

"m'okay, Sammy," Dean whispered out as he twisted his shirt into a ropelike shape.

"Sam?!" Bobby questioned Dean, needing to know if he was okay as well.

"He's hit."

"Damn it! How bad?!" Bobby quickly called back, checking the hillside once again for movement.

"Forearm. Looks bad. Can you see him?" Dean questioned out desperate to know if the sharpshooter was visible and if his brother might suffer another bullet.

Dean quickly wrapped the fabric around his brother's arm just above the elbow and pulled it as tightly as he could, then watched in panic to see if the blood flow slowed.

"No, it's too damn dark, but I saw movement in the woods straight out from the third tripod indents on the right side"

Sam lay holding his arm and groaning. He pulled it tight to his chest accidentally blocking it from Dean's view. He was confused, scared, and in pain.

"Dean...god," he sputtered overwhelmed with pain and fear.

"Easy Sammy," Dean whispered as he tried to pull his brother's arm out where he could check in. "Let me see."

Sam continued to hold his arm tight to his chest.

"C'mon, man. I need to see if the tourniquet's working."

Sam had to push his arm out for his brother to see. Everything inside of him wanted to cradle the limb as if somehow in doing so, the pain might be less.

The tourniquet was working, the blood flow had slowed. Dean placed the limb back up against his brother's chest allowing him to cradle it once again. Dean quickly ran his hands over his brother's body searching for any additional wetness.

When none was found, he looked his brother in the face and called for Bobby's help.

Bobby crouched down and crawled over to the brothers.

"Stay with him," Dean ordered the hunter, readying himself to pursue the sharpshooter.

"You're hurt son, let me go," Bobby countered seeing the blood on Dean's shoulder. "You stay here with Sam."

"No, Bobby. I'm okay," he insisted as he grabbed the hunter's arm and pulled him to Sam. The gesture was one of placing his brother in the hunter's care.

Bobby nodded, weapon drawn, ready to protect.

Dean turned back to his brother.

"Stay here, Sammy. Bobby will keep you safe."

Sam knew what Dean was about to do.

"Dean, no," Sam begged grabbing hold of his brother's t-shirt with his casted arm. " You're hurt. Please, don't go."

Dean looked directly into Sam's eyes. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, little brother, but this ends tonight." Then he placed his hand on Sam's fisted hand, squeezed it gently like a hug, and then pulled his brother's grasp from his shirt. He crouched down and headed towards the door.

"No! Dean! Don't do it! DEAN!" Sam hollered and struggled to rise to stop his brother.

Bobby had to restrain Sam, holding him to the floor as the young, weak sibling fought frantically to free himself.

"No, Sam! Let him go!" Bobby firmly commanded.

"No, Bobby, please. He's hurt. The hunter could kill him! Please!"

Desperate to get the sharpshooter and forever end his threat to Sam, Dean threw open the door and bolted out onto the walkway and down the stairs taking off in the direction of the woods.

Sam watched in horror as Dean opened the door and disappeared into the night.

"Dean!" Sam cried out, not wanting his brother to face whatever it is alone. He struggled to get up again, but Bobby held him to the floor.

He quickly turned back to Bobby.

"Please, you have to go with him. You have to watch his back. Make sure he's okay. Just give me a gun to protect myself and go with him!" Sam insisted feeling panicked for Dean's safety.

"No, Sam. Dean's gotta do this and he won't be able to if he's worried about you being here by yourself unprotected. Your brother's head can only be in the game if he knows you're safe. Understand?!"

Sam's eyes searched back and forth between Bobby's then he slowly nodded. God he hated that about Dean, always throwing himself in harms way to protect him. Ironically, it was one of the things he loved about his brother too. Dean always had his back. When he couldn't count on anyone else, he could always count on his brother. But this wasn't just covering his back, this was going head first towards death for his sake and Sam found that unbearable.

Bobby noted Sam's distress and tried to assure the frightened sibling.

"I'm sorry, son. He knows what he's doing. He'll be okay. We wait."

Bobby checked Sam's arm again, attempting to slip his fingers under the tourniquet to be sure it was adjusted correctly. When he was unable to do so, he loosened it slightly and then rechecked to be sure the wound was not bleeding too much.

Sam remained still under his ministrations, listening for any signs of gunfire from beyond the door.

Bobby laid Sam's arm gently to his chest again, then rose, closed and locked the door, and took up a position by the window to look for Dean. His eyes caught the young hunter just at the edge of the parking lot, but soon lost sight of the Winchester as he disappeared into the woods.

Sam, desperate to see what was taking place outside as he feared for his brother's life, struggled to stand using the bed for support and stumbled a few feet forward before collapsing into Bobby's arms and getting dragged back beside the bed.

"No, son. You need to stay back. I'll keep watch," Bobby promised.

Sam dropped his head to the floor in frustration and defeat. Exhausted and pained, he lay helplessly on the floor beside Bobby. The older hunter reached up and turned off the light leaving the two in the dark, alone and waiting to hear what was going on outside.

Sam lay on the floor straining to hear for any sign of his brother's well being. It wasn't long before a shot rang out piercing the quiet darkness outside. Sam recognized it was Dean's weapon that he heard. Dean was still alive and he released the breath he was holding. Knowing that a sharpshooter's rifle would be silent when fired, the only way Sam could tell his brother remained alive was if he heard another shot. He waited as his heart beat frantically in his chest. No other shots rang out.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean flew across the lot and within seconds found himself entering the woods that had concealed the assassin. He backed himself to a tree, weapon raised, and cautiously peered around it to look for movement. Nothing. He took off again gaining about twenty yards and took up a position behind another tree. Once again he cautiously peered around the evergreen. Nothing. He repeated his approach once more and still, nothing.

Dean instinctually dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, straining his ears for a sound. It was a technique his father had taught him.

John had taken Dean out deer hunting, trying to give his son experience in the art of tracking and taking down prey. They were deep in the woods in Wisconsin, just the two of them, and had been tracking a deer for about a mile. Dean was eight and leading the hunt, finding himself stumbling unsuccessfully to take the creature down. Every time the tracks indicated the deer was near, Dean just couldn't narrow the gap and finish. Dean desperately wanted to make his father proud and was growing more frustrated by the minute. John had been studying his son and his approach and noticed the boy growing frustrated so he offered his son a bone.

"_The body has five senses, Dean. Use every one of them when you're hunting. Most people make the mistake of relying on their eyes, son, but it's usually the other senses that give away your prey_."

Dean could still hear the words in his head spoken in his father's voice.

Having shut down his sense of sight, he began focusing on his sense of hearing. One by one, he tuned out each and every sound he heard that was familiar and tried to focus completely on the woods in front of him.

Soon he was rewarded as a slight snap of a nearby twig indicating a presence off to his left. Son of a bitch. The bastard was doubling back and coming around to take him from behind.

Dean turned his piece, took aim and fired. The bullet met its mark as a distant figure barely visible in the darkness 'oompft' and fell to the ground.

Knowing that things are not always as they seem, the young hunter waited, weapon trained, on bended knee for any additional sounds.

Other than heavy, unsteady breathing, there was nothing else, not the click of a rifle nor the sound of movement.

The damp evening air chilled as it seeped through his flesh and grabbed hold of his bones. The cool forest floor seemed to suck whatever heat he had in his body down through his knee as it pressed deep into the humus that lie beneath it. His t-shirt offered no warmth for his shivering body. His right shoulder throbbed, his left burned. The only warmth he felt was a slow trickle of his own blood as it slowly dribbled down the front of his shirt.

This was it, the moment of truth. Jake and Gordon's reign of terror could end here and now. How things played out would either save Sam's life or pave the way for his death. Dean knew he had to be successful. There was no room for error. Hesitation or misjudgment was not an option as his little brother's life dangled from his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lip, and, slowly rose to approach the fallen hunter, moving carefully tree by tree in case the hunter was not as injured as he projected.

When Dean was about ten meters out, he stopped, crouched and waited. Though there still was a tree and some low lying forest shrubbery between the two, he could make out in the moonlight that the figure was on the ground face down.

A few minutes later, Dean cautiously approached, weapon drawn out, prepared to fire in a moments notice.

He came up behind the tree allowing it to provide cover, a shield between he and the man who lay injured on the opposite side. Then he aimed his gun at the man's head.

"Don't move!" he growled out as his heart continued slamming against the wall of his chest. He had to steady his breathing, so it did not interfere with his ability to take in the sounds around him.

The figure lay still, wheezing in and out with each labored breath.

Dean paused and then moved in above the fallen man keeping careful aim on his head. He kicked the rifle out of the man's hand and then slowly leaned over and picked it up. He removed the cartridges, and tossed the useless weapon aside.

Having detected no further movement and a decrease in breath sounds, Dean decided to turn the man over and question him before he died. He wanted to know who he was and if there were any other hunters still gunning for Sam.

Adrenaline once again assaulted his body as he took the tip of his boot, lifted the sharpshooter's shoulder , and kicked the injured hunter over. Before he could blink, a shot rang out.

Tbc


	16. Hit or Missed

**Previously On Supernatural Ambush**

"Don't move." Dean growled out as his heart continued slamming against the wall of his chest. He had to steady his breathing, so it did not interfere with his ability to take in the sounds around him.

The figure lay still, wheezing in and out with each laboring breath.

Dean paused and then moved in above the fallen man keeping careful aim on his head. He kicked the rifle out of the man's hand and then slowly leaned over and picked it up. He removed the cartridges, and tossed the useless weapon aside.

Having detected no further movement and a decrease in breath sounds, Dean decided to turn the man over and question him before he died. He wanted to know who he was and if there were any other hunters still gunning for Sam.

Adrenaline once again assaulted his body as he took the tip of his boot and lifted the sharpshooter's shoulder and kicked the injured hunter over. Before he could blink, a shot rang out.

**Chapter 16**

Dean's eyes doubled in size as his body reacted to the shot. He flinched backward and stood there staring at the barrel of the sharpshooter's handgun which had been hidden between the man and the forest floor.

The man's body suddenly flopped back and his piece dropped to his chest unfired. His unseeing eyes lay open. A small trickle of blood spilled out of his mouth and was quickly absorbed by the dry forest floor.

Dean stood frozen, his mouth hanging open, and he suddenly felt a presence behind him.

He turned around instantly and readied his piece to fire.

About ten yards out, he heard a familiar voice.

"What is it with you, Winchester? Every time I get within a few yards of ya, you turn your weapon on me," the familiar voice quipped as it came closer.

Dean's face cracked into a smile and he let out the breath he was holding, shook his head, and placed his hands, weapon and all, on his knees.

"Guess you just have that effect on people, Bobby," Dean quipped, immensely thrilled to see the older hunter whose gun was still smoking. He was even more thrilled, that he, himself, wasn't sporting a hole through the center of his forehead at the moment.

"Damn, Bobby, did anyone ever tell you your timing was impeccable?"

"Yeah, the ladies tell me all the time," the hunter quipped back with a sleazy smile.

Dean shook his head knowing he'd left the door wide open for that one.

Bobby reached Dean's position and slapped the young hunter on the back, then rested his hand on his shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. Both stood staring for a moment at the slain hunter before them, allowing the sting of heightened adrenaline to dissipate in their systems.

Bobby then reached down and felt the sharpshooter's neck to confirm he was dead. It wasn't that he had any doubts; he knew his shot was true. But luck hadn't been riding with John's boys lately and he felt the need to feel the lifeless vein beneath his fingers to verify that good fortune had actually swung in their favor for a change.

Dean leaned over and began searching the dead hunter's pockets for identification. He was confident the shooter was the one Gordon had referred to. The simple fact that he'd taken a cruel limb shot at Sam's arm was proof enough, but he felt the need to connect the man before him to the one who had done the shooting to finally put his mind at ease. He couldn't take the chance that Tommy had gotten away and that the man before him was a different hunter.

"So how'd you know? About his hidden piece, I mean?" Dean questioned the experienced hunter as he checked the dead hunter's jacket pockets for ID.

"Military trained... special ops in Afghanistan...These guys don't allow themselves to be interrogated, Dean. They either take you down or go down themselves. Wasn't sure you knew that," the hunter finally admitted.

Dean nodded his head, appreciative of Bobby's expertise. Truth was, he planned to question the guy and he would have bought it doing so.

Bobby eyed Dean, not knowing whether his nod was that he already knew it or that he was kicking himself for not having figured it out. Either way, he was glad he'd been there to help.

He had no idea the young hunter was admiring him for his wisdom.

After checking the fallen hunter's inner, left jacket pocket, Dean held up the dead hunter's driver's license and smiled. " A one Thomas Richardson," he declared with pleasure, having now confirmed the dead man before him was actually Tommy.

The moment of truth had come and gone and Sam's safely had been secured once and for all. Gordon's reign of terror had officially ended.

"Wish I could see the look on Gordon's face when he sees this guy walk through the gates of hell and announce he screwed up," Dean stated.

"You hear that Gordon!" Dean's deep voice suddenly growled out loudly. "You sons of bitches screwed up! You didn't get my little brother and you never will!" he hollered into the forest, allowing all the pent up anger and fear that had been polluting him on the inside to leave his system with his loud declaration.

The words were quickly absorbed by the woodlands, the thoughts and feelings that accompanied them fell powerless to the damp forest floor, never to torture the young hunter again.

Bobby smiled as he watched the expressive man before him assume his more sarcastic and not emotional demeanor.

"Guess he won't be needin' this anymore," Dean announced as he threw the guy's license down on the dead hunter and stood up.

Bobby nodded in agreement and began looking around for a good place to bury the body.

Dean's thoughts immediately turned to his little brother.

"How's Sam? He put you up to this, didn't he? Coming out here and leaving him alone. It was his damn puppy dog eyes, wasn't it?" Dean frowned, shaking his head at the power his little brother seemed to possess over people. He wasn't too happy his brother had manipulated Bobby into leaving him alone, unprotected, for his sake.

"Well, we mutually agreed you could use the help, but, uh………….." Bobby paused, hesitant to finish his explanation.

"But what?" Dean questioned surprised the hunter would have trouble saying anything. He began to grow concerned."He's okay, isn't he?"

"Well, he would've been under the bed if the kid had bothered to follow my directions…problem was the son of a gun tried to follow me when I left."

"Jeezus, Bobby, he's probably already in the woods," Dean worriedly interrupted as he pictured his brother's weak and injured body collapsed on the cold forest floor. He began to take off towards the motel.

"I don't think so," Bobby called after him.

The tone in Bobby's voice made Dean stop.

"When he tried to follow me out, I sort of made it so he couldn't," Bobby confessed ashamedly.

Dean's eyes narrowed and he looked suspiciously at the hunter as he made his way back to him.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Locked him …in the closet," Bobby sheepishly replied fully expecting Dean to belt him one.

Dean eyed the man with mixed emotions. The thought of the guy throwing Sam in the closet and locking him there ticked him off, but the realization that he had probably saved his brother's life by doing so somehow kind of made up for it and then, on top, the guy had just saved his own life.

Bobby moved his arm up ready to deflect a punch he sort of expected might be thrown in his direction.

Dean decided not to take issue.

Bobby seemed visibly relieved.

"You want to bury this one?" Dean suggested as he picked the hunter's rifle up off the ground. "I'm gonna go get Sam out."

Dean took off in a run back towards the motel.

"We're gonna need to take care of his arm and get the hell out of here before the cops show up, so hurry up about it!" he hollered back as he ran.

"Yeah, yeah. Leave the dirty work to me,' Bobby muttered to himself. " You know some day you're gonna get what you pay for!" he hollered out to his departing partner.

Dean waved his arm high in the air already half way to the parking lot.

oooOOOooo

Dean keyed the lock and flung open the door. It smacked hard against the motel wall.

"Sam?" he called out as he ran up to the closet.

"Sammy?" he called out again when he didn't hear his brother's response from the other side. He wanted to be sure his little brother knew it was him before he unlocked the door so the kid didn't accidently shoot him when he opened it.

He was surprised when Sam didn't answer.

Fearing his brother might be unconscious from blood loss, he reached for the knob and flinched when he found it unlocked. Fearfully, he yanked it open and anxiously looked in side.

Empty.

"Sammy?! Where the hell are ya?!" Dean hollered out as he turned around and searched the room frantically with his eyes.

Still, he heard no response. Ice cold panic prickled in every fiber of his being as the thought of a second hunter struck him smack in the face. _Oh shit!_

He raised his weapon and took off out the motel door and desperately searched the lot from the balcony for any signs of activity. Nothing, no struggle ensuing, no collapsed little brother, and no car leaving or even starting. Nothing.

Dean wiped his trembling hand across his face. If someone grabbed Sam, in his condition, they would have had a hell of a time getting him down to the lot. Not enough time had passed for a hunter to do that, even if the son of a bitch had carried his brother down.

Dean's heart slammed hard against his chest; his body began to physically shake. _Damn it! _There could have been two.

"BOBBY! HE'S GONE!" the panicked sibling hollered off towards the woods as he scaled the steps three at a time and began searching the lot more carefully. He ran in between the cars, but came up empty, and then bolted around to the front. If the hunters had taken Sam down the elevator they might have taken him out the front door.

As he rounded the corner, he froze. There was no sign of a car coming or going, no people out front, no Sam.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed as tears stung his eyes. He bolted through the front door and headed towards the elevator. The doors were closed, the lights above indicated the elevator was on the second floor.

Dean punched the call button and stepped back in dreaded anticipation. If Sam were on it, a gunfire exchange could get him killed. If his little brother wasn't on it, then he was gone. There was no where else to search.

The manager, having observed the frantic, panting man pass through the doors and stop at the elevator, called over.

"Excuse me sir. You need to check in before going to a room."

Dean swung around, weapon in hand.

The scrawny manager threw his arms straight up; his eyes bugged out.

"Police emergency, get down behind the counter," Dean growled out, trying to get the man out of the way for his own safety as well as for Sam's. A distraction could tip things in the escaping hunters' favors.

The man remained frozen and the elevator dinged it was about to open.

"Now, damn it, now!" Dean shouted as he turned his piece and aimed it at the seam in the elevator doors. He waited breathlessly for the doors to part.

Bobby, having seen Dean take off towards the front, suddenly came bursting through the front door with his weapon drawn as well. Seeing Dean in front of the elevator, he came up behind him as back up.

The doors opened in slow motion as Dean and Bobby fingered their triggers. Sheer horror gripped them both when the elevator revealed it was empty.

"Aw, jeezus," Dean whispered as he nearly collapsed on the floor. Sam was gone.

Bobby reached over and steadied the anguished hunter.

Dean's watery eyes looked over to Bobby who was confused and racked with guilt.

Dean held his hands up to the sides of his head, weapon in hand, and stumbled back turning as if lost and looking for a sign or direction.

"Damn it, Bobby, I told you to stay with him," Dean cried out.

"Dean, I…" Bobby swallowed overcome with remorse. "I'm sorry. I don't understand. There wasn't enough time for anyone to take him. I was watching. He had a weapon. We would have heard shots! He should've been safe in the bathroom closet."

Dean's eyes doubled in size and he literally reached over, grabbed Bobby's head and kissed the man smack on his forehead, then suddenly bolted out the back door.

The old hunter stood momentarily dazed, overcome with saddness, as his eyes witnessed John's eldest finally crack. He realized it had been inevitable. The poor boy had fought so valiantly to save his brother and now to lose him like this.

Bobby shook off his shock and took off after Dean. He needed to reason with the kid, get him back on track, so they could put their heads together and figure out a plan. Someone had to have seen something. There had to be clues as to where the boy was. He and Dean would just hunt the kid down and save him before anything bad could happen.

Dean took the stairs three at a time and bolted down the walkway. He slammed his shoulder into the door, throwing it once again smacking into the wall behind it.

"Sammy!" he called again, this time bolting past the coat closet door that still remained open and heading towards the bathroom.

"Sam!" he hollered out as he grasped the knob of the skinny door and unlocked it. He flung it open and stood frozen in place.

Sammy was sitting on the floor, knees tight to his chest, weapon perched in the firing position on top, cradling his injured arm close to his body. The kid looked frightened on first glance, but then his face broke into a smile.

"Jeezus, kiddo. You scared the crap out of me!" Dean whispered as he rested his back against the vanity behind him and slid down to the floor.

Sam's watched as his brother sank. Unaware of his brother's recent panic and the relief that had caused him to melt into a puddle on the floor before him, Sam's eyes fell on Dean's bloody shirt and he feared his brother had collapsed from blood loss and was soon going to pass out.

"Oh, no. Dean, god are you okay?" the younger sibling questioned worriedly.

"I am now," Dean answered with a smile. Sam was safe, bleeding, exhausted and traumatized, but safe. And to him, that was all that mattered.

Sam attempted to get out of the closet to check his brother out. Though his mind was willing, his body didn't have the strength to comply. His ribs moaned with the movement, his arm throbbed, and a wave of dizziness briefly washed over him. He had to abort his efforts.

"How 'bout you? You okay?" he questioned his sibling, concerned when he saw his little brother struggling to move and then give up.

"Yeah, I guess……….. considering I was shot, am bleeding to death, and got locked in a closet by a dear family friend, while my brother was getting killed by a sharpshooter in the woods just out side my room and I couldn't do a damn thing about it," Sam grumbled sarcastically using up every last breath of air he had to do it.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dean replied shaking his head and smiling like he had just won the lottery. Sam still had his sense of humor, so he couldn't be that bad off.

Bobby suddenly appeared in the doorway, having spotted Dean, smiling ear to ear on the floor of the bathroom, upon his arrival.

"Son of a bitch. The kid _is_ in the closet? You asshole! I told you he was in the closet. Damn it! You scared the shit out of me, boy!"

"You didn't say the _bathroom _closet, Bobby! How was hell was I supposed to know? Huh? I mean this thing is what?... 3 feet wide! How the hell did you manage to stuff him into this thing anyways?"

"Well, it wasn't easy……"

Sam nodded having been the one crammed in against his will.

"….but I figured he couldn't get out and get himself shot and nobody would think to look for him in there."

"Yeah, well you got that right you dumb…"

"Dean!" Sam cut his mouthy brother off.

The three men smiled, glad as hell that it was finally over. The sharpshooter was dead and the three of them weren't.

"Glad you're alright, kid," Bobby offered to Sam before he turned to finish taking care of the body on the hillside, "no thanks to me, I might add," he mumbled under his breath as he headed to the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbled rolling his eyes.

Sam smiled. Dean winked.

"Like I'm gonna thank you for locking my brother in a closet!" he hollered out sarcastically. He waited for Bobby's retort.

"Shut up or it'll be you next time!"

Sam whispered a laugh. Dean snorted.

"Right, old man, I'd like to see you try!"

Bobby reappeared in the bathroom doorway. "Can we hurry it up, smart ass? Police will probably be along any minute. People don't take too kindly to shootings these days."

"I'm goin'. I'm going," Dean's voice cracked out as he began to get up off the floor.

Bobby headed back out to the woods.

Dean looked back at Sam who was smiling, pleased to see his big brother get bossed around for a change.

"Don't even think it," he warned his smug sibling.

"I'm not thinkin' anything," Sam replied softly.

Dean eyed his little brother who was still boxed in, on the floor of the closet. It was obvious the kid would have spent the rest of his life there if he and Bobby hadn't survived the evening, cuz there was no way in hell he had the strength, let alone the ability to un-wedge himself from the small space.

He couldn't help but smile at his helpless little brother's predicament. Something brotherly inside of him wanted to use the situation to his advantage, to make his little brother bargain to get out.

Sam, recognizing his brother's amusement at his predicament, rolled his eyes. "Can we get past the humiliation of this situation for just a minute, and get me the hell out of here?"

Dean laughed.

"You know, I still have a loaded gun in my hand and the strength to pull the trigger," he threatened his big goofy smiling brother.

Dean snorted. He was pleasantly surprised at his little brother's light hearted banter considering his situation and his new injury. Seemed just having the threat of the sharpshooter gone had lifted the kid's spirit.

Sam raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dean's response.

"Alright," Dean agreed gently as he leaned forward. "Give me your hand," he softly directed.

"The casted one or the shot one?" Sam questioned sarcastically.

Dean nodded. The situation definitely reeked, big time, for his little brother.

He reached in for his brother's casted arm, grabbed the back of it just above the elbow and then began gently pulling him forward.

Sam tried to help scoot with his legs, but his strength was clearly lacking and his healing leg quickly complained. The attempt at movement also brought on awave of dizziness, that was clearly disorienting. Sam's eyes involuntarily closed as if his body wanted to shut down its current view and restart in the hopes that the world would assume its still position once rebooted.

Dean saw Sam's eyes shut and his playful demeanor suddenly changed.

"Just sit still, Sammy, let me do the all work," Dean offered worriedly.

He put his palm behind Sam's calf and pulled both it and his brother's arm simultaneously. Dean's shoulder complained miserably, but he didn't care.

Slowly, Sam's body let go of the closet wall it seemed to be holding on to and he was released onto the bathroom floor and into his brother's arms.

Dean paused and held his brother, somehow needing to feel his brother close to confirm he hadn't lost him today.

Sam waited, expecting Dean to rise and pull him up, then clearly recognized he was being hugged.

It had been years since Dean had hugged him. Sam always knew his brother loved him, but sometimes a good hug goes a lot farther than a known thought. He couldn't help but melt into his brother's embrace. His body had been beaten, tortured, shot, and drugged and had taken days, even weeks, to recover, but somehow, in the few seconds he was held, Sam felt a healing that surpassed it all, one that knit all the shattered pieces of his heart together.

Dean felt his brother relax against him and smiled.

Moments later, he loosened his embrace, rose, and then turned to assist Sam in getting up.

Sam tried his best to rise with his brother's gentle assistance. Unfortunately, the trauma and blood loss were taking their tolls and the upright position he was now assuming provided less blood flow to his brain. He began feeling disconnected from the world around him as exhaustion and dizziness frustrated his efforts to stand. Unable to compensate, he started to collapse back down to the floor.

"Easy, there, kiddo, where you goin?" Dean questioned worriedly as he caught his brother in his arms and quickly lifted his struggling sibling's arm up and around his shoulders. He prepared to hoist his little brother the rest of the way to his feet.

Sam recoiled when he realized what Dean was doing. "No man, your shoulder. I can do it. Just give me a second," he requested as he swayed and closed his eyes, trying to find strength in sheer determination.

"Sam" Dean corrected his brother sharply having seen him clearly incapable of doing it himself. He was growing anxious about his brother's deterioration and was eager to get him to the bed so he could check him out. The only way to get Sam up off the floor and to the bed was if his little brother let him carry his weight.

Sam conceded at the sound of his brother's tone, as if a child submitting to its authoritative parent, without complaint or even hesitation. Truth was, he didn't trust his own judgment at the moment and he trusted his brother's completely.

His quick submission concerned Dean even more.

Dean quickly pulled his little brother's arm up over his shoulders. He was surprised when he felt resistance.

"C'mon, Sammy, work with me," Dean coached trying to get his brother to comply.

Sam bent his casted arm at the elbow and hooked it around his brother's neck.

Dean realized his sibling wasn't trying to resist, but avoid contact with his bleeding shoulder, hoping to spare him some pain.

Dean grasped his brother's cast to steady it there and placed his other arm around Sam's overly thin waist and began hoisting him up.

Sam swayed and fell into Dean as the movement caused a wave of dizziness that shifted the ground beneath him making it impossible for Sam to tell his position on it. He struggled to stand vertically, but couldn't quite determine which way vertical was.

"Easy, little brother, I gotcha," Dean encouraged, growing more and more disturbed by his brother's frailty.

"I think I liked it back in the closet better," Sam sluggishly muttered. "I think I'm gonna be sick, Dea," he finally confessed as the dizziness resulted in a wave of nausea.

"It's okay, Sammy, you're gonna be okay," Dean offered trying to assure his little brother. If he were to admit the truth, he too was becoming worried his sibling might not be.

Dean righted Sam using his hip and side and began the daunting task of helping his brother move towards the bed.

Sam's injured arm dangled loosely at his side occasionally bumping against his bony hip as he made his way through the room, the trauma of which aggravated his wound. Blood began to once again trickle down his arm, over his wrist, and down to his finger tips. From there it dripped onto the carpet below, leaving crimson spots as if marking a trail as he went.

"C'mon, kiddo, one foot at time," Dean coached as Sam's legs seemed to glue themselves to the carpet with each step.

Sam did his best, but eventually ended up sinking down towards the floor.

Dean quickly hoisted him back up and semi dragged him the rest of the way. He let his brother down gently in the seated position on the bed.

Sam, not having the strength to hold himself up, began to fall backward, his awareness seemed to be falling with it.

"Easy, Sammy," Dean cooed as he gently eased his brother down.

Sam seemed a lot worst than just a few minutes ago and Dean didn't know if it was exhaustion, blood loss, or both that were claiming his brother's consciousness. He began immediately assessing his brother's body to find out.

He gently studied Sam's arm and found two holes, one in front, the other in back, indicating that the bullet had gone clean through.

Sam gasped as his brother prodded at and rotated his painful limb to check the front and back of it.

"You okay, kiddo?" Dean questioned as he observed the crimson blood leaking out at a rate Dean was not happy with. Sam's hand and fingers were cold to the touch.

"Yeah," Sam whispered unconvincingly.

Dean checked Sam's tourniquet for tightness and effectiveness. Since the blood was still seeping faster than he wanted, he untied and then tightened it slightly. He slipped his fingers under to be sure it was safely adjusted. He checked the blood flow again. Once comfortable with its adjustment, he asked Sam to make a fist to try to get what little blood was in the lower part of his arm, into his fingertips to prevent gangrene.

Sam lay on the bed, eyes open looking up at the ceiling. He did not comply with his brother's request.

"Sammy, hey, hey?" Dean beckoned softly as he rubbed his brother's hand and fingers himself trying to assist with the circulation.

Sam turned his eyes sluggishly towards his brother.

"You tired?" Dean questioned trying to understand what his brother was feeling.

"Yeah"

Dean's eyes skimmed his brother's body as he feared his brother's behavior was not simply exhaustion. He estimated Sam had lost about two pints of blood based on the amount on his pants, shirt, and arm and he feared Sam's collapse was due to blood loss. He looked back at his brother's face and checked his pulse.

"You dizzy?"

"Yeah"

Dean frowned and bit his lip. Sam needed help fast.

"Ccold, Dean," Sam shivered out.

Dean knew then that his brother's body was going into shock. He ripped the comforter and blankets from their neatly tucked positons and without moving his brother, he wrapped the freed materials around Sam, essentially swaddling him. He ran his hands up and down on his brother's chest trying to create friction to offer him some warmth. He was careful not to push down on his cracked ribs.

"Okay? You warmer?"

Sam nodded, feeling no difference at all, but wanting to please his brother and help him feel his efforts were helping.

"Hang in there, okay? I'm gonna get you help. You just hang in there, alright?"

Sam nodded agreeing to something he wasn't sure of. Dean said alright, and Sam figured it was.

Dean patted Sam on the chest and began racing around the room gathering up their stuff in anticipation of Bobby's return and their need to exit quickly.

"Sam?" Dean questioned wanting to be sure his brother did not lose consciousness.

Sam remained quiet on the bed.

Dean glanced over and saw his eyes were closed. He immediately ran back to his brother's side and gently placed his hand on his chest and jostled him.

"Sammy? Hey?"

Sam opened his eyes.

"Whhat?" the youngest sibling mumbled weakly.

"I want you to talk to me, okay?"

Sam blinked slowly.

"Okay, little brother? I want you to talk to me," Dean repeated wanting to see if he could get a verbal response from his brother.

"What ….about?" Sam asked sluggishly.

Dean, feeling like Sam was back with him enough to be left for a second, began packing up again.

"I don't know. You're the one who always does the talking. Think of something," he added shoving all the medical supplies into a duffle as fast as he could.

"I ddon't… ffeel like ttalking….. Dea…… 'm tired."

"Yeah, well, your beauty sleep is gonna have to wait, Princess Sammy. I need you to stay awake."

Dean quickly ran to the bathroom and swept all their toiletries into a bag. He grabbed all of Sam's medications out of the cabinet.

"You knoww ….I hhate when you call mmme that," Sam slurred out slowly.

"Seriously? I didn't realize that," Dean quipped as he dropped the bag by the door. He ran back to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. "What would you prefer Princess Bride or maybe Princess Barbie?" Dean joked trying to keep the conversation going as he began wiping down the room for prints.

"You're a jjerk…. You knoww that?" Sam whispered as a cold shiver ran through him.

"I'd rather be a jerk, than a bitch," Dean teased throwing the final items he'd missed the first time around into bags, having finished wiping down the place. He gathered the duffels and remaining bags and dropped them at the door just as Bobby came back.

"We good?" Dean questioned.

Bobby nodded. "Car's at the bottom of the stairs. How's he doing?"

"He's going into shock, lost too much blood. He's having trouble staying awake. I think he's gonna need a transfusion," Dean explained looking worriedly at Bobby.

"What's his type?"

"AB positive. He's gonna need two pints, probably more."

Bobby nodded and placed an assuring hand on Dean's arm.

"I'll get it from the hospital. We can transfuse him at the apartment."

Dean hesitated. He was thinking they should run Sam straight to the hospital.

Bobby moved over to Sam who had passed out on the bed. Dean joined him there and attempted to rouse his brother. This time he didn't get a response.

"Sammy? C'mon man, wake up."

Sam remained unresponsive.

"Damn it!... Bobby, I think we need to stitch him now to stop the bleedin and get him to the hospital."

Bobby checked Sam's pulse. Dean waited for Bobby's evaluation.

"It's weak….slow…. but it is steady, Dean," Bobby declared looking to Dean for his thoughts.

Dean checked Sam's pulse and agreed. While Sam was clearly unconscious, his life did not seem to be threatened at the moment.

"Dean, if we stay here and stitch or go to the hospital, you boys may be looking at a murder rap. I know you don't want that for Sam. The apartment is just a few blocks down the street," Bobby explained dropping the key into Dean's hand. "You take him there. I'll go get blood and meet you. We'll take care of him there."

Dean hesitated. His brother's life was more important than his fears of going to jail, but his pulse did seem steady and strong enough to indicate that he was not in immediate danger at the moment and he knew what Sam would choose if he were able to cast a vote.

He finally nodded.

"Let's get him in the car," Bobby initiated as he threw the blankets off of him.

Bobby grabbed Sam's legs at the knees while Dean lifted his brother from behind and the two managed to raise him up.

Dean's eyes teared as the pain from his gunshot wound and previous injury became unbearable. His arm suddenly gave out, simply refusing to perform according to his wishes and Sam's body fell back down to the bed.

"Damn it," Dean cursed, frustrated at himself and his inability to help his brother.

"I got him," Bobby quickly assured as he moved into Dean's load bearing position. He eyed the clearly suffering Winchester and grew worried about his condition."You try to grab his legs."

Dean forced himself over to his brother's legs and lifted his knees.

Bobby watched Dean as the two struggled to lift Sam and move him out through the door. His face was sweaty and clearly held tight in pain. The blood on his shoulder and down his front indicated Dean had been hurt more than he had originally let on. Either that, or the removal of Sam from the closet had aggravated his injury. Knowing time was tight and Dean was wanting to focus on Sam, Bobby decided not to take issue. He would take care of both boys in the apartment.

The two somehow managed to get Sam down the stairs and over to Dean's waiting car. As soon as they loaded Sam into the back, they began hearing sirens.

Dean looked frantically at Bobby.

"You go!" Bobby insisted. "I'll clean up here."

"Not enough time, Bobby, leave the stuff and get in the car!" Dean hollered as Bobby took off, back up the stairs.

The older hunter threw his arm out to the side gesturing for Dean to get going.

He hesitated, then slid into the driver's seat, gunned the engine and took off.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean rounded the apartment complex following the signs for Building C. The three story building was at the end of the campus and had apartments just as Bobby had explained. Some faced forward and some back. The stairs ran up through the center of the building, but were not enclosed. Four apartments opened onto a landing at each floor.

Dean scanned the parking lot and soon found the parking space that coincided with his key number. He parked and quickly killed the engine, withdrew the key, and threw open his door. He slammed it shut and quickly scanned the lot. Everything was quiet.

He quickly opened the back door and hopped in the back seat next to Sam, placing his hand gently on his brother's chest.

"Hey Sammy," he whispered hoping he might, by some miracle, be able to arouse his unconscious brother.

His attempt was unsuccessful and he immediately checked his brother for a pulse. The weak but steady throbbing beneath his fingers brought a welcome relief. He checked his brother's bullet wound, tourniquet, and arm, not wanting to move his brother until he was sure doing so would not cause him any additional harm.

The wound looked about the same. A slow trickle of blood ran down the side of his brother's arm, but the tourniquet was clearly working.

Dean began to check his brother's wrist and fingers. Sam's hand and fingers were discoloring and cold to the touch. Dean feared his brother might lose the use of his hand if he didn't allow some blood to flow, yet he feared if he were to loosen the tourniquet, the loss of blood flow to the rest of his body could cause a stroke or worse.

He rechecked Sam's pulse, then bit his lip and loosened it. Seconds later, he retied it. He was surprised at how much blood escaped in the few seconds he had allowed it to flow. He quickly massaged his brother's wrist, hand and fingers trying to get what little blood had made it down into the cold and clammy digits. He studied his brother's face for any signs of distress.

Sam remained the same, his breathing shallow, but steady, just like his pulse.

Knowing he needed to get his little brother inside, he scanned the area to make sure no one was near. Once sure he wouldn't be seen, he slipped his arms under Sam's, locking them around his chest and pulled him tight against his body. He then slid his brother's unconscious frame out of the back seat.

Sam's legs dropped to the ground and Dean began the overwhelming task of getting his brother to the apartment on the second floor.

His shoulder screamed and threatened to give out as he literally dragged Sam to the dark wooden steps of the apartment building. He could feel the warm blood oozing from his shoulder and running down his chest. Dizziness briefly caused him to sway, but he pressed on knowing he was Sam's only hope of getting into the apartment, safe and warm, to wait for Bobby's desperately needed blood supplies.

One by one, he hoisted Sam's body up the stairs to the second level. A choice of four apartment doors appeared there. He headed towards the two that faced away from the road. Once there, he pulled his brother up to the one that matched his key, 2-B.

He gently set Sam down on the landing and rested his little brother's back against the wall beside the door, taking care not to allow his head to hit the hard wooden siding. He checked Sam's pulse once again, took a quick glance around to be sure they hadn't been seen, and placed his key in the lock.

Sam's head began to fall forward and his shoulders and chest soon followed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, little brother, where you goin?" Dean whispered to his clearly unconscious brother.

Dean quickly placed the flat of his hand against him to hold him to the wall and finished unlocking the door.

He heard a door slam one landing up and some voices as they neared the stairs to come down. Fearing that if seen, the police might get involved, he frantically hurried to complete his task.

Once unlocked, he threw open the apartment door and quickly dragged his brother inside. He fell backwards on the floor, with his brother on top of him, just as the door swung closed, barely clearing Sam's feet. Laughing voices could be heard on the opposite side as the unaware tenants made their way down the stairs towards the first floor.

Dean sighed in relief as he lay exhausted and pained on the carpeted floor, pinned with Sam in his arms half on top of him. He reached up to check his brother's pulse, fearing the fall to the floor may have caused him some harm, but the world around him began swirling and his brother's neck suddenly became difficult to find. White spots of light began dancing in his eyes as darkness, forming around the outside of his vision, seemed to slowly be swallowing them up on its journey to conquer the world before him. His body began to feel lighter and he could no longer feel his brother's weight on top of him.

Fearing his unconscious brother had been taken from him, he wanted desperately to get up and search for him, but his body would not comply. The blood loss, the pain, and the exhaustion were simply too much for the valiant young hunter. Against his will, his body and mind finally surrendered to the dark world his sibling had been exploring less than an hour earlier and he began to search for his little brother there, instead.

TBC

Author's Note: Special thanks to all of you who have encouraged me through your reviews! You inspire me and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with you as you enjoy each and every chapter! Some of you are not able to be contacted through fanfic (anon.) so I wanted to be sure you knew how grateful I am to hear from you! Rachelly


	17. A Stitch In Time

**Previously On Supernatural Ambush:**

Once unlocked, Dean threw open the apartment door and quickly dragged Sam inside. He fell backwards on the floor, with his brother on top of him, just as the door swung closed, barely clearing Sam's feet.

Dean sighed in relief as he lay exhausted and in extreme pain on the carpeted floor, pinned with Sam in his arms, half on top of him. He reached up to check his brother's pulse, fearing the fall to the floor may have caused him some harm, but the world around him began swirling and his brother's neck suddenly became difficult to find. White spots of light began dancing in his eyes as darkness, forming around the outside of his vision, seemed to slowly be swallowing them up on its journey to conquer the world before him. His body began to feel lighter and he could no longer feel his brother's weight on top of him.

Fearing his unconscious brother had been taken from him, he wanted desperately to get up to search for him, but his body would not comply. The blood loss, the pain, and the exhaustion were simply too much for the valiant young hunter. Against his will, his body and mind finally surrendered to the dark world his brother had been exploring less than an hour earlier and he began his search for his brother there instead.

**Chapter 17**

Bobby raced into the apartment complex less than a half an hour later. When he got near Building C, he saw the Impala, parked with the back door wide open. He knew Dean would never have deliberately left the door like that. It would draw too much unwanted attention. The hunter's heart rate doubled as he realized something was seriously wrong.

Bobby parked, quickly grabbed the supplies he'd taken from the local hospital off the seat of his truck, and slammed his door. He made his way to the Impala, slammed the back door, and scaled the apartment stairs three at a time. He paused on the landing when he saw blood on the floor outside, then banged on the door and waited anxiously for Dean to open it. After banging again and not getting a response, he tried the knob. Another wave of fear shivered through him when he found it was unlocked and he drew his weapon and slowly opened it not knowing what he would find on the other side.

Ice cold fear prickled throughout his body as he discovered both Winchester brothers collapsed on the floor before him. Sam's body lay on top of Dean's, ghostly white. His bloody limb lay out to the side on the carpeted floor, a growing crimson circle of soaked, matted fibers rested beneath it. It was difficult to tell if Sam was breathing. If he was, his respirations were too shallow to be seen.

Bobby quickly tucked his piece in his waist band and threw the hospital supplies to the side and called the boys' names as he checked Sam and Dean's pulses.

Dean's pulse was stronger and faster than he had expected, but clearly not within the realm of normal. Bobby considered the elder Winchester's appearance, his coloring in particular which seemed relatively normal, and wondered if he had passed out due to exhaustion or blood loss.

Sam's pulse on the other hand was weak and slow, significantly slower than Bobby felt comfortable with, clearly not within the realm of safe. He checked the youngest Winchester's hand and fingers. They were cold, swollen and clearly discolored from the lack of blood flow. Bobby cursed. Sam needed the tourniquet loosened or he was going to lose his arm, but he didn't dare do it. The kid's condition was so frail, he feared any loss of blood from his system would be disastrous.

He grabbed Sam under his arms and quickly dragged him off of Dean. He had to pull hard to get the older sibling to release his steadfast hold on his brother's chest. Even unconscious, Dean was holding his little brother tightly.

Dean stirred as if sensing his little brother had been taken from him. His eyes fell on Bobby and then Sam, who hung unconsciously in the hunter's grasp.

Feeling the need to check on his brother, he struggled to sit up, swaying slightly as the sudden change in position caused a wave of dizziness to waft through him. His efforts were fruitless and his head and body fell back down.

Bobby knew then that, though exhaustion was a factor, Dean was clearly struggling with blood loss as well.

"Sam?" Dean managed to mumble out amidst the disorienting visuals he was experiencing.

"He's still with us," Bobby gently answered knowing the question was aimed more at him, than at Sam, who was clearly incapable of answering himself. He laid Sam's body gently on the carpet and eased his head down onto the floor.

"Shouldn't we get him into a bed?" Dean mumbled as he watched helplessly as his brother was placed on the carpeted floor beside him.

"I need a hard surface to work on and I don't want to waste any time," the hunter answered as he dug in his duffle for rubber tubing to exchange for the manmade tourniquet Dean had created from his shirt.

"You get the blood?" Dean questioned worriedly from his position flat on the floor as he turned his head and looked at the ghost-like face of his clearly blood starved brother beside him.

Bobby emptied the contents of his duffle beside Sam. IV bags, blood units, a cannula, iodine, antibiotics, a blood pressure cuff, thermometer, syringes, tubing, medical tape, and more lay scattered on the shaggy, green carpet.

Dean found himself once again eyeing the vast amounts of medical supplies Bobby had secured from the hospital with great appreciation.

"Got six units, O negative blood. ….The universal donor," he clarified unnecessarily since Dean was all too familiar with blood types and transfusions.

Dean looked at him with worried concern when he heard the hunter had brought six units. He feared that Sam was more messed up than he thought.

Bobby clarified again as he tied the tubing around Sam's upper arm just above the fabric rope, adjusted the tension, and slowly removed the now useless shirt.

"Thought you might need some too and didn't know if your blood type was the same as your brother's."

Dean nodded, appreciating his friend's wisdom, though he considered it unnecessary.

"I'm good," he announced as he began trying to right himself again to help his brother.

Bobby took in the young hunter's paled complexion. The fact that he had found the kid passed out only moments earlier, suggested otherwise.

"Sure you are."

Dean looked sheepishly. He knew he needed help, but he wanted Bobby's full focus on Sam.

"I'll get him transfused and stitched. Then I'm dealing with you," the hunter warned as he set the bloodied, roped fabric aside and shuffled through the supplies beside him with his hand, seeking out the ones he needed for the transfusion.

Dean nodded finally conceding. "Sam first."

"Sam first," Bobby echoed knowing Dean would have it no other way.

Dean turned over on his side and attempted to right himself. Again he was assaulted with dizziness and pain.

"Stay down, Dean. I'll help you as soon as I take care of Sam," the older hunter directed gently as he frantically began opening the supplies to transfuse the youngest Winchester.

"No, Bobby, Sam needs me," Dean corrected as he finally gave up on sitting and managed to scoot his way up close to his little brother's head.

He looked in horror at Sam's pale, white face. His brother's eyes were cracked slightly open, though clearly unseeing, his mouth was agape as if about to ask for help or cry out in pain. His appearance was disheartening. He put his hand on his little brother's chest to feel for his respirations, having not been able to detect them with his eyes.

"He's breathing, Dean," Bobby confirmed, "but he's not looking good."

Dean's brow furrowed in worry. He looked at the hunter's eyes wanting to know the details.

Bobby complied.

"He's lost a lot of blood, his hand is swollen, his coloring is blue. His pulse is weak and slow, too slow," the hunter paused as he tore open another package with his teeth and shook the contents onto Sam's chest for easy access. "He needs blood and fast."

Dean nodded as he rested his hand, palm down on his brother's chest and patted it gently.

"Hang in there, Sammy," Dean whispered hoping that somehow Sam could hear him and find the strength to hold on, if not in sheer determination to live, for the sake of his brother who was asking him to.

Sam was unresponsive.

Bobby had all the equipment ready to go and turned to Dean

"We need to establish a baseline so we can monitor his progress and detect any signs of a negative reaction to the donor blood," Bobby gently explained to Dean. He hated to bring up the possiblility of complications, but knew the young hunter would know that's what he was doing as soon as he began taking Sam's vitals.

Dean nodded, fully aware of the dangers of transfusions. In Sam's condition, he was even more concerned.

"I'll do his pulse…..and uh, temperature and uh……….. respirations, Can you take care of his blood pressure?"

"Sure," Bobby answered glad that Dean had asked, though concerned that he was admitting he needed help.

There were some things the eldest Winchester never did. He never let you have the last word, unless you were John, he never went anywhere without his piece, and he never asked for help with Sam when his little brother was hurt unless Sam's needs were beyond his reach. The request indicated that either he was worried sick about Sam and wanted Bobby's help to hurry up the process or that Dean was struggling with his injury enough that he felt he couldn't meet all his brother's needs himself.

Bobby eyed Dean. The kid was clearly struggling to stay focused. He feared Dean might not make it much longer and would soon be joining his brother in the state of unconsciousness.

"What," Dean questioned as he felt Bobby's eyes bearing down on him.

Bobby curled his lips and grabbed the blood pressure cuff he had "borrowed" from the hospital. "Nothing."

"Good, now let's get the baselines."

The two worked quickly and shared their results. Sam's blood pressure was dangerously low, his pulse slow, respirations shallow, and his temperature was normal.

Dean held Sam's head still as Bobby set up a saline IV in his neck. It was a precautionary step for any transfusion in case there was a reaction. Since both arms were unable to be IV-ed, Bobby opted to place it in Sam's neck.

Bobby taped the tubing down to hold it in place. Dean pressed the ends to be sure they were well stuck. Bobby grabbed some tubing off of Sam's chest, attached it to the unit of blood and into the cannula. He looked back up to Dean when everything was in place, ready to go, wanting to know if the older sibling wanted to do the transfusion.

Dean knew his hand was not steady enough nor his vision clear enough and didn't want to miss his brother's vein. He nodded to Bobby indicating he should go ahead and do it.

Bobby graciously accepted Dean's trust, though worried about his well being. His willingness to relinquish the responsibility to him was a clear sign of Dean's frailty and it concerned Bobby.

"What do you want me to do? How can I help?" Dean questioned feeling the need to be involved.

"Hold him still," Bobby counseled. "I don't want him to move when we're doing this. Would make one hell of a mess and could get him hurt in the process. Make sure the IV stays taped and in his neck."

Dean moved in closer to Sam. He put his arm under his brother's head and wrapped his fingers around his forehead and gently braced him. He held his brother's bloody arm down to the floor making it accessible to Bobby. He pressed down firm enough to hold Sam's arm still should he arouse, but gentle enough so as not to hurt him. He could feel his little brother's weak pulse beneath his fingers and the coldness of his brother's hand and sighed.

"Hang in there, Sammy, just a little bit longer. We're gonna fix everything, okay? You just gotta hang in there."

"You ready?" Bobby softly questioned. His hand, holding the cannula, hovered over Sam's exposed vein just above the rubber tourniquet.

Dean nodded.

After starting the flow to remove any air that was in the tube or needle, he inserted the cannula into Sam's exposed arm and began the intravenous blood transfusion."

Dean braced his brother's head and arm more firmly as if expecting his brother to react.

Sam seemed completely unaware of his presence or the needle as it pricked through his skin.

Dean studied his little brother's face looking to see if he was having any reaction to the new blood that was now flowing into his veins. He gently brushed Sam's bangs out of his face so he could watch him better.

Bobby detected his concern.

"We'll check his baselines in 15 minutes. If there's no sign of a febrile reaction, we'll continue. We should check every thirty minutes after that. I've adjusted the flow so it will only take about 30 minutes to get the first unit in him."

Dean knew Bobby was worried. Normally you would adjust the flow to take 2-3 hours to transfuse a pint of blood. Bobby was doing it at the fastest rate possible and Dean knew that the hunter feared Sam's life was in danger.

Dean nodded while keeping his eyes on his brother.

"I'll start the second unit right after the first so the transfusion will be continuous. Once his blood pressure levels out into a safe range, we'll discontinue so we don't over supply his system."

Dean continued to stare at Sam, almost as if dazed. The dizziness he was experiencing was overwhelming. The pain in his shoulder was sharp and unrelenting. The pounding of his head was so loud he could hardly tune it out to hear what Bobby was saying. Dean felt a brief disconnect with his body, but quickly pulled himself back.

Bobby was concerned when he saw Dean's head suddenly nod.

"We need to get you lying down."

Dean shook his head.

"After we're past the 15 minute mark and he's stitched you can do whatever the hell you want to with me," Dean replied. "But I'm staying here until then."

Bobby shook his head. He couldn't help but admire Dean's steadfastness when it came to safeguarding Sam, but he also couldn't resist being frustrated with it as well.

The older hunter reached for the suturing supplies, then started prepping Sam's arm for surgery. He wiped off as much blood as he was able to in order to get a better look at Sam's wound and what he'd need to do to fix it.

After placing hospital gloves on his hands and a sterile cloth beneath Sam's arm, he swabbed the wound and surrounding tissue with iodine. The yellowy brown liquid was pungent and fought for space on Sam's arm with the blood that continued to seep.

Bobby opened the suture package, sterilized the needle and threaded it. Everything was in place and ready to go. He tightened the tourniquet to stop the blood flow, blotted out the remaining blood that was blocking his view, and inserted the needle for his first stitch.

Dean lay silently and watched as the needle disappeared deep within his brother's raw flesh. He watched Sam's face for any signs of pain, but his brother lay unaffected. He glanced at Sam's neck and arm as they absorbed the much needed fluids. All looked well. All, that is, except for Sam.

The minutes literally ticked by so slowly as Dean waited for the first check point that he was sure time had stopped at least three times. Each time the needle went in and pulled through, Dean felt the pinch and burn as if it were his own.

Bobby knew it was painful for Dean to watch and not be in control of his brother's suturing, and did his best to deserve the respect and trust the young man had given him.

Fifteen minutes later, Bobby set down the suturing tools and he and Dean began checking Sam's stats to compare with his baseline.

"Respirations are still shallow. His pulse is the same. His temperature is slightly elevated….98.9 degrees, Dean reported.

"Blood pressure is still dangerously low," Bobby announced. "We're just about ready for another unit, are we good?"

Dean nodded. He wasn't pleased Sam's temperature was slightly elevated, but it certainly wasn't high enough to indicate concern or even really count as a reaction. Anything 100F or above would need reevaluation.

Bobby hooked up the second unit. Dean and he continued bracing and suturing as the second unit of blood entered Sam's body.

oooOOOooo

Fifteen minutes later, the first unit was near empty and they began the second. As it drained enthusiastically into Sam's body, Dean braced and Bobby stitched.

When they passed the first 30 minute mark, they began re-checking Sam's vitals.

"Respirations are still shallow, but much faster," Dean reported with concern.

"Blood pressure is up a little bit, but well below a safe range," Bobby announced.

"Pulse is faster, too. His temperature is…" Dean paused waiting for a read. "…100 F. Damn, he's having a reaction," Dean despairingly told Bobby as he hung his head down and shook it, clearly distressed. He couldn't believe with all that his little brother had suffered that he now had to struggle with accepting the blood he so desperately needed to keep him alive.

Bobby felt the pain of Dean's announcement as well, but knowing he needed to be strong for the young sibling, he pulled on his knowledge of transfusions and attempted to report them objectively, even though his heart feared, as Dean's did, that this was not going to be a typical reaction.

"It's a common reaction, Dean, you know that," Bobby reassured. "Remember that time we had to transfuse your dad after he did the tango with a brown bear up in the woods?"

Dean nodded.

"Your dad ran a low grade fever for about 12 hours and then he was fine. We'll keep an eye on it, but I say we keep the transfusion going."

Dean hesitated. He knew that continuing could cause Sam's antibodies, which were clearly reacting to the foreign blood in his system, to overreact and send his little brother into a downward spiral, but to deny him the much needed blood would surely have the same effect.

"Dean, what do you want to do?" Bobby questioned waiting for the undecided youth to make the final decision.

"Keep going," Dean whispered desperately hoping he was making the right choice.

Bobby loosened the rubber tubing allowing blood flow to Sam's damaged arm and quickly retied the limb off. He massaged the unconscious sibling's hand and digits, then cleaned up the blood that had leaked out of the wound.

Dean watched in silence. It was good to see that the flow, when the tourniquet was loosened, was minimal. Bobby's stitching was effective and holding and Dean was pleased.

Bobby picked up the needle and threaded it. "You ready?"

Dean nodded and braced his little brother as Bobby continued the arduous task of stitching Sam's arm safely closed from the inside out, both in the front and in the back.

oooOOOooo

Fifteen minutes later, Sam's body began to show clear signs that it was fevered. His skin was hot to the touch. Tiny beads of perspiration were forming on his forehead, neck and body. Sam's hair was slowly beginning to stick to the salty wet liquid that was desperately trying to cool him. His respirations were hot and quick along with his pulse. His body began to shiver as chills assaulted it.

Dean couldn't wait for the next thirty minute mark and began assessing his brother's condition.

Bobby, feeling the same nervousness, did the same.

"Fever's 101 degrees. Damn it! C'mon little brother, don't do this," Dean begged. "His breathing is shallow and fast. His pulse is racing."

"Blood pressures up," Bobby tried to announce enthusiastically. "We've finished two units. Should I start another?"

"How high," Dean questioned, hoping Sam's blood pressure was close enough to not require another unit, while in his heart he knew two pints couldn't possibly have been enough with all his brother had lost. He was worried about pumping in more of the foreign substance since his brother's body was reacting so strongly to it. More blood could force Sam's immune system into a full rejection and Sam could not afford that.

Bobby once again offered his counsel when he saw Dean hesitate.

"He's still well below safe, Dean. He needs at least one, more unit. I can slow down the drip, give his body more time to work it out, but to be honest, he needs the blood as fast as we can give it to him."

Dean bit his lip and wiped his hand across his face.

"Dean?" Bobby pushed needing an answer.

"Do it."

While Dean's answer sounded decisive, it heart was clearly not.

Bobby quickly set up the third unit and administered it. The blood flowed slower than its previous desperate pace through the tube and into Sam's blood lacking body.

Dean once again assumed a position close beside his brother, braced his forehead and arm and Bobby continued stitching.

About ten minutes later, when Bobby began a stitch, Sam reacted. His face winced as the needle pierced his flesh. He moaned as the thread was pulled through. His fevered body shook as chills raced up and down him.

Dean immediately responded and began whispering soft words of encouragement in the chance that his brother could hear him. He also braced his moaning brother more tightly.

Bobby looked over at Dean. They both knew that for Sam to be reacting, his blood pressure and fluids would have had to have reached a safer level. That was the good news. The bad news was that Sam was about to discover a world of pain and they both feared he might not be able to handle it, to remain still in spite of it.

As Bobby tied off the stitch Sam began to stir.

"Easy, Sammy," Dean cooed not sure if his brother could hear him. The sweat from Sam's fever made his forehead so wet, it was hard for Dean to get a good grip.

Sam didn't respond to Dean's voice so Bobby continued.

He forced the needle back into Sam's arm for another stitch. Sam flinched and this time opened his eyes. He sensed he was being restrained and he began to struggle in fear.

"Hold him!" Bobby shouted as he clamped his hand next to Dean's to hold Sam's arm still. The needle had already taken the stitch and still remained in Sam's moving arm. Bobby couldn't remove it or pull it through until Sam stilled.

Both Bobby and Dean attempted to restrain him.

Sam felt the increased restraint and began to panic. He hollered out for Dean.

"Dea!" his voice whispered hoarsely.

"I'm right here Sammy, shhhh, stay still. I need you to stay still. Don't move, alright. I got ya. It's me. I'm right here," Dean whispered to his brother as he placed his face directly over his brothers.

Sam looked at Dean's face and for a moment didn't seem to recognize him.

"S'me, little brother. I'm right here."

Sam settled immediately when he realized it was Dean who was holding him down.

"M-my arm, " Sam whispered out trying to tell Dean he was in excruciating pain and he needed his brother to make it go away.

"You were shot, remember?" Dean gently explained. "Bobby's stitching you up, so you need to stay still, okay? Can you do that for me, Sammy? Stay perfectly still?"

Bobby and Dean exchanged a nervous look. Sam was disoriented, pained, fevered, and scared. They couldn't give him anything for the pain without knocking him out, which would be too risky in his condition.

Dean continued holding his brother's feverish head and his gently placed his hand on his brother's chest. "Sammy, we need to finish stitching. It's gonna hurt, but I need you to stay still, can you do that?"

Sam nodded as he determined to master the pain that was creating the panicked feeling inside of him.

"Try to breathe through the pain, okay?" Dean coached sympathetically.

Sam nodded again.

Dean placed his hand over Sam's arm again and pinned it down to hold it steady.

Bobby looked at Dean for a sign to continue. When it came, he finished the stitch he had started.

Sam's face screwed up in pain as Bobby pulled the thread through his open wound. He tried to breath through the pain like Dean said, but his body wouldn't cooperate and he clenched his teeth and moaned.

Dean could feel his brother's arm tense beneath his hand and he fought to keep the limb still.

"Easy, Sammy, shhh, breathe in and out with me," Dean instructed as he deliberately drew a breath in loudly enough for his brother to hear him and exhaled it in the same overly exaggerated manner.

Sam locked his eyes on Dean's and tried to breath with his brother.

"That's it," Dean encouraged, "In and out with me"

Bobby took another stitch. Sam flinched, but this time, breathing with Dean, he was able to work through the pain. Tears stung in his eyes and Dean watched painfully as they made their way down his brother's temples, to his ears, and then onto the floor.

"Hang in there kiddo," Dean whispered . Finding it impossible to watch his brother suffer, he turned to Bobby. "How much longer?"

"Probably about six left."

Dean frowned. Sam shivered. Bobby announced it was time to take a read on Sam's condition.

Dean released his hold on Sam to check his temperature. His brother's skin was hot to the touch and his cheeks were clearly flushed. The tape that held the IV in place was peeling due to the excess moisture of Sam's perspiring skin.

Sam lay still as he waited for his brother's close presence again. He was relieved to get a break from the stitching, but feared he might not make it through six more. His hand and fingers were numb, his arm burned as if held into a flaming torch. His head was pounding and he was having difficulty concentrating.

"Blood pressure is up again, Dean. We're at the low end of normal," Bobby announced.

Dean checked Sam's temperature. "103 degrees. Jeezus, that's not normal for a transfusion, Bobby. His system is rejecting the blood. Damn it." Dean cursed as the all too familiar feeling of panic for his brother's life assaulted his over exhausted and pained body.

"He's already gotten about three units. I'll disconnect," Bobby announced as he quickly removed the cannula, the tubes and blood along with it. He put pressure on the insert site to stop the blood flow. "I'll give him a shot of antibiotics. It might give his system a boost."

Dean nodded leaned forward, and braced his brother's opposite arm. "You're gonna feel a prick, little brother, in your other arm. It's just some medicine, okay?"

Sam nodded.

Bobby quickly inserted the needle and forced the medicine into Sam's vein. The fevered Winchester didn't react much. Bobby discarded the syringe and prepared the next suture.

Sam shivered. "Dean?"

Dean returned to his position laying close to his brother's side.

"…I f-feel ssick…..'m cc-cold," he whispered as if asking his brother to explain why he was feeling sick again. Sam shivered out his guess. "W-with..d-drawal?"

Dean's heart sank as he heard his brother's guess as to why the hell he was sick and suffering again.

"No, Sammy, not withdrawal. You, uh…you got a fever, kiddo. You're reacting a little to the blood we gave you, but you're gonna be okay. Alright? Just hang in there. You just hang in there," Dean reassured while his anxious heart beat nervously against his chest.

Sam nodded unsure if he could, but not having any other choice, he was willing to try. He knew having a fever was a bad sign, that his body was rejecting the blood he'd been given, but he found himself too sick to worry about it.

"Dean, we need to finish stitching or his blood pressure is gonna drop with his bleeding."

Dean nodded and moved in to brace Sam's forehead and arm again.

Sam felt his brother's ice cold hand on his forehead. Though it was chilling, it was welcomed. It was not only refreshing to have his burning skin cooled, but it was physical proof that Dean was there. He closed his eyes and prepared for the next stitch.

Dean understood Sam's need to close his eyes to try to manage the pain, but he needed to know his brother was still awake to judge his condition.

"Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes.

"You can close your eyes, but I want you to talk to me, okay? I need to know you are awake," Dean explained.

"Okkay, Dean," Sam shivered back as sweat beaded beneath Dean's hand. His brother's breath was hot against his cheek.

"You ready?" Bobby questioned Sam as he held the threaded needle in his hand.

Sam nodded.

"Go, Bobby," Dean quickly instructed eager to get the whole damn thing over with. Sam couldn't afford to lose any of the blood he already had, since transfusing was no longer an option due to his reaction.

Bobby initiated the next stitch. Sam squeezed his closed eyes tightly.

Sam felt the needle press once again into his oozing wound and felt the searing pain as the thread was pulled through the torn flesh.

"…oh, god…"

Dean bit his lip, his eyes stung as tears threatened to congregate inside his eyelids.

"Talk to me, Sammy," Dean coached not wanting to let his suffering sibling slip into unconsciousness.

"I c-can't….ah!..."

"Why not," he pressed on trying to keep his brother talking.

"…hhurts tto m-much…t-to t-talk," Sam whispered through clenched teeth.

Bobby tied off the stitch and began to take another.

Sam flinched. Dean's eyes teared.

"… you want to sing, instead?" Dean questioned trying to hide his emotions and distract his brother from his pain through humor.

Bobby looked over at Dean with an "Are you nuts" expression. He'd heard Sam sing Karaoke once when the kid was drunk, and it was painful! He gave Dean a dirty look.

Dean shrugged. He was desperate to get his brother to interact and if singing worked, than so be it.

Bobby realized Dean's strategy and tried to play along.

"Don't you think there's enough pain going on around here without hearing the kid sing?"

Sam snorted almost breathlessly.

"…y-you hhhate..."

Bobby pulled the thread through Sam's wound.

"..shit….uh…."

"I hate what?" Dean questioned as his eyebrows furrowed in sympathy with his brother's pain.

"whhen I-I ……s-sing," Sam struggled to get out.

"Yeah, well, that's cuz you can't hold a tune, little brother."

Bobby tied off another stitch.

"C-can s-so," Sam shivered argumentatively. He knew what Dean was doing, but he decided to play along hoping that somehow the dialogue might make the situation more bearable.

Bobby forced the needle back into Sam's flesh.

Sam winced and gasped.

"Breath with me kiddo. In and out," Dean coached as he winced along with his brother.

Sam opened his eyes and followed his brother's breathing.

Bobby pulled the thread through. Sam felt like his arm was literally on fire. He shut his eyes tightly.

"So you think you can sing, huh?" Dean continued as his voice hitched. It was difficult to speak through the emotions he was feeling but he was determined to keep Sam busy in the hopes of lightening his pain. " Okay? Let me hear ya. Bobby here will decide if ya can or not."

Bobby shook his head, not wanting to have to give any unkind ruling to the already hurt kid.

"Sorry, I'm deaf in both ears," Bobby interjected as he tied off another stitch.

Dean smiled and searched his brother's face to see if he had enjoyed Bobby's humor. A slight curve at the corners of Sam's mouth indicated that he had.

"Guess I'll have to be the judge," Dean smugly replied. "Scales 1-10. Don't be nervous, now, just sing, Sammy."

"Y-you c-can't b-be s-serious. I a-already know the sscore you'll g-give m-me," he shivered trying to relax even though he knew another stitch would soon be taken.

"Try me"

Sam got quiet as Bobby inserted the needle back in his wound and the familiar burning sensation of the thread being pulled through caused him to go deep within himself to manage it.

"Sammy?"

"Sam!" Dean shouted worriedly. He feared his brother had passed out.

"Wwwhat?" Sam finally answered when Bobby had finished the suture and was tying it off.

"Sing something! C'mon make me laugh," Dean insisted worriedly.

"Bbite mme," Sam whispered as his pounding head caused a wave of nausea to pass over him.

Sam moved his casted arm up to try to put counter pressure on his temple in the hopes of relieving the painful throbbing that was building with each passing moment.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy,now. Whatcha doin there, Sammy Boy?" Dean questioned worriedly. The movement had jostled his body and Bobby had ceased his suturing.

"H-head hhurts"

Dean looked worriedly at Bobby.

"A few more," the older hunter regretfully announced.

Dean frowned.

"We'll give ya something soon to help with that, alright?" he questioned as he pushed his brother's arm down to his side.

Sam nodded and didn't raise the limb again.

Bobby held up the needle so Dean knew to brace him again.

Dean grabbed his brother's arm once again firmly.

Sam knew it was coming and took a deep breath.

Dean continued with his diversion.

"I'll start you off with one of your favorites, okay?" Dean offered as the needle disappeared into his brother's bloodied arm. It was so hard to be playful on the outside and hurting so badly on the inside.

"Oh, great," Bobby complained. "I gotta listen to you boys sing in stereo, now?"

Sam flinched as the thread once again burned through his flesh.

Dean held him tight, bit his lip and began singing.

"I am woman, hear me roar, in numbers too big to ignore…." Dean sang as off tune as he could.

"Fffavorite, m-my ass-ss. Yyou're s-such a j-jerk," Sam managed out as Bobby tied of the suture. Relief washed over him as he knew there would be a brief hiatus while Bobby readied for the next stitch.

"Would you prefer…."

Sam interrupted as he attempted to sing a song. His words were shivered, his tune off key, but Dean got the message anyways. "Sh-short p-people ……g-got …n-no rreason to l-live…"

"Dude! I hate that song. Don't blame me if everyone on the entire planet is shorter than you, Sasquatch," Dean quipped back.

Sam's fevered, sweaty face cracked a slight smile, pleased he'd ruffled his brother's feathers for a change.

"Th-that's cuz yyou're sh-short. Only sh-short pppeople h-hate that ssong."

Bobby approached Sam's arm for the next stitch.

Sam suddenly shook and his teeth began to chatter. His flushed cheeks seemed to be taking on a more reddish tone, and his eyes were looking a bit glassy.

Having his hand clamped over his brother's forehead, Dean hadn't realized that his brother's fever was still rising. His hand had absorbed the warmth unnoticed. With Sam's eyes closed, his glassy eyes had been well hidden.

Dean asked Bobby to stop for a minute, released Sam's arm, and then took his temperature..

"103.9F" Dean announced worriedly.

Bobby frowned. "Three more, Dean, then we'll cool him down and get him something for the fever."

Dean nodded, dreading the last three.

Sam shivered again and closed his eyes. The thought of three more seemed overwhelming.

ooOOOoo

They repeated the process three more times. Dean announced the count down hoping his brother could hold tight as he anticipated the end of his pain.

Same became quiet and Dean was unable to engage him in any kind of conversation, humorous or otherwise.

Sam's strength was gone, his body so fevered he could no longer think. He found himself drifting in and out, in, with each needle prick and painful threading, out, in between the stitches.

Bobby completed the third and frowned.

"We need one more," Bobby sadly announced. He was disgusted with himself for underestimating the count.

Dean felt compelled to explain it to his drifting sibling almost as an apology.

"Sammy?"

" mmm," Sam mumbled with his eyes closed.

"Sam?"

Sam opened his eyes with difficulty. They were glazed and unseeing.

"'mm'tired, Deeeaaannn," his vulnerable voice slurred out.

"I know, kiddo. One more, okay? Just one more, and then we'll get you something for the fever and you can go to sleep. Alright?"

Sam nodded with his eyes closed.

Dean assumed his position one last time, bracing his brother's head and arm and Bobby finished the last step. Sam showed absolutely no awareness of the suture.

Bobby quickly cleaned up and covered the wound, both front and back to protect it from an infection, and then ran to get a wet wash cloth and some Tylenol.

Dean gently put the cool cloth on his brother's fevered face. Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

"You're gonna be okay, Sammy. I promise."

Sam nodded appreciatively.

Bobby passed Dean some pain pills and a glass of water.

"I need you to swallow something for me. Can you do that? Can you swallow some pills for me?"

Sam shivered and nodded. The cloth on his forehead was no longer cool. It had absorbed some of the heat that had radiated off of him.

Bobby removed it and ran it under the sink, then grabbed a bowl, filled it with cold tap water, and brought it over as well.

Dean lifted his brother's head.

Sam tried to lift his head, but he couldn't.

"Relax, let me help, okay?"

"'kay," Sam barely whispered.

Dean lifted Sam's head.

"Open up," Dean coached when his brother showed no sign of understanding what was going on.

Sam complied and felt two tablets on his tongue.

Dean pressed the glass up to his brother's hot lips and Sam sipped and swallowed.

Dean waited anxiously, fearing that he might choke on them if he was too out of it.

"Ya good?"

Sam nodded as Dean laid his head back down, himself beside his brother's.

"Let's get you some blood," Bobby offered to Dean as he lay on the floor.

"Sam needs to be in a warm bed."

"I'll hook you up and then I'll move him. He's not in any danger laying here for a few more minutes, you are!"

"I want him comfortable first. He's cold here on the floor."

Bobby frowned. Frustration etched itself across his face. Realizing arguing with Dean was pointless, he conceded against his better judgment.

"Bedrooms down the hall on the left. I'll take him there."

"I can help," Dean offered as he turned on his side and pushed himself up to a kneeling position. Waves of dizziness and pain waffled through him and he swayed, putting his and down to steady himself.

"You can barely stand. Let me do this," Bobby begged.

Dean shook his head and stood the rest of the way up. After a brief sway, he turned and smiled arrogantly at Bobby.

"Stubborn fool," Bobby spat as he shook his head.

"I've been called worse," Dean quipped.

"I bet you have, wise ass."

"Worse," Dean replied again shrugging Bobby's insult.

Bobby snorted. He could think of a thousand words to throw at the boy, but didn't have the heart to do it.

"Thought so," Dean smugly quipped.

"You ready?" he questioned as he lifted Sam's upper body. "I got his IV."

Dean nodded and leaned over to grab his brother's legs at the knees. When he rose to stand, the world around him began to spin.

It was painful for Bobby to watch, but he knew Dean would insist on doing it.

Dean steadied himself and heaved Sam's legs up. A look of pain flashed across his face. He hooked his right arm under both of his brother's knees. His left was no longer usable.

The two men began carrying the unaware Winchester to the bed.

Upon reaching the room, they navigated Sam carefully through the door and gently laid him down. Dean found himself once again struggling with dizziness and pain when he leaned over to put the cool cloth on his brother's fevered forehead and practically fell on top of his sibling.

Bobby reached out and steadied him.

"Let's get you in bed."

Dean brushed him off. "Once Sam's fever's down," he insisted as he sat down next to his brother and lifted the hot rag up.

Bobby slipped out to get the bowl of water that had been left on the floor.

Dean felt his brother's forehead for fever.

Sam's skin was still so burning hot.

Sam opened his eyes when he felt his brother's touch.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean whispered as he sat at his brother's bedside and tried to cover him with the spread.

The corners of Sam's mouth curled up as his glassy, fevered eyes made contact with his brother's concerned face.

Dean removed the warm cloth, dipped it in the bowl of water Bobby had set on the nightstand, and squeezed the water out of it. He wiped his brother's neck and face. Once again the cloth warmed upon contact with Sam's over heated body. Dean re-dipped the cloth, squeezed it out and placed the cool fabric once again on his forehead.

Sam just watched his brother's face as he cared for him and after a moment, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

"Sleep well, Sammy," Dean whispered as he relinquished his brother to the rest he so desperately needed.

He placed his hand on his brother's chest to gage his respirations. Sam was still breathing too quickly as his body tried desperately to cool itself every way it could. Sam's shirt was wet, his arms, neck and face glistened with sweat. If it weren't for the IV providing him with the fluids he was loosing so quickly, Sam would have been dehydrated.

Dean took his brother's temp…103 degrees…. He felt a little relief. It was on its way down or at least not going up any more. Dean didn't know if it was because of the Tylenol or the fact that Sam's body was adjusting to the foreign blood that coursed through his veins, but he hoped it was the second.

Bobby appeared in the doorway with the medical supplies to take care of Dean. He had observed the eldest Winchester's slow decline over the past half hour. Dean was no longer making any attempts to move or use his left arm. He just held it tight to his body. His complexion had paled considerably since Bobby had first found him and his eyes looked somewhat glassy. His shirt, that had mostly dried blood on it earlier, was bright red and wet indicating his wound was seeping again and more rapidly. His wound had obviously been more serious than he had let on. Bobby was eager to get a good look at it and do something about it before the kid lost even more blood or got an infection.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked knowing that how Sam was doing, Dean would be doing.

"Fever's down a little bit, but still way too high," Dean muttered.

"He's a fighter, Dean, he'll beat this. I know it," Bobby assured as he watched Dean remove the cloth, dip it, squeeze it, and return it to his brother's head.

"I hope so," he whispered softly.

"I know so," Bobby declared gently.

"It's just ….how much can a body really take and keep coming back?" Dean whispered worriedly.

"Sam's not just anybody, Dean. You and I both know that. He's got one hell of a spirit. The kid isn't gonna just give up."

Dean removed the cloth, cooled it and returned it to Sam's feverish head.

"Name me one time the kid just quit. Huh?" Bobby continued feeling like Dean needed more assurance.

Dean shook his head. He couldn't think of a time. He could think of lots of times Sam fought…with Dad mostly, but not a single time his little brother just quit cuz the odds were stacked against him.

"I'm sure he'll fight. S'just, his body might not be able to do what his mind wants it to."

"You wait and see. Sam's gonna be fine. I promise," Bobby finally stated with almost a guarantee. If it was the last thing he was going to do, it was to bring the kid back to good health, both Sam and Dean.

Dean nodded, appreciative of Bobby's commitment.

"Now, let's get you into bed. I need to take a look at that wound that you keep hiding from me. I'm pretty sure it isn't just a graze."

"When Sam's fever is down, you ……."

"No, Dean, now," the hunter finally demanded as he removed the cloth from Dean's hand and pulled on his arm to get him up. "I'll watch over Sam."

Dean shook his head and frowned, but eventually conceded. His arm was painfully sore and he knew infection would soon set in. He needed to be in good shape if he was going to help Sam with his recovery and physically therapy.

Dean pulled his arm from Bobby in an almost defiant way, not wanting the hunter to fuss over him. He forced himself up, turned to move towards the other bed, and collapsed.

TBC

Hope ya didn't mind the length. You know me and details! If ya liked it, send me some chocolate…or a review…if that's easier! You know how much I love to hear from ya! Rachelly


	18. Torn

**Previously on Supernatural Ambush**

"You wait and see. Sam's gonna be fine. I promise," Bobby finally stated with almost a guarantee. If it was the last thing he was going to do, it was to bring the kid back to good health, both Sam and Dean.

Dean nodded, appreciative of Bobby's commitment.

"Now, let's get you into bed. I need to take a look at that wound that you keep hiding from me. I'm pretty sure it isn't just a graze."

"When Sam's fever is down, you ..."

"No, Dean, now," the hunter finally demanded as he pulled on his arm to get him up. "I'll watch over Sam."

Dean shook his head and frowned, but eventually conceded. His shoulder was painfully sore and he knew infection would soon set in. He needed to be in good shape if he was going to help Sam with his recovery and physically therapy.

He pulled his arm from Bobby in an almost defiant way not wanting the hunter to fuss over him, forced himself up, and collapsed.

**Chapter 18 **

Bobby reached for the crumbling Winchester and secured him in his arms just before Dean hit the floor. He quickly wrapped his hands around Dean's chest and dragged the young man to the other bed. With tremendous effort, he managed to get him lying down.

He checked Dean's pulse and was disturbed to find it was very weak and extremely slow. Placing the flat of his hand on Dean's chest, he quickly timed his respirations. They too were slow and shallow. The blood pressure cuff revealed that Dean's fluid levels were now dangerously low.

Not wasting any time, he prepped the injured hunter for an IV. He searched over Dean's arm looking for a good vein, but the low blood pressure did not present one. He wrapped a rubber tube around Dean's arm just above the elbow and forced a vein to show. He quickly swabbed down Dean's arm and inserted the IV. After he hung the saline solution on the post of the bed to give it the needed height, he adjusted the drip. Bobby removed the rubber tubing and turned his attention to getting Dean the blood he was now in desperate need of.

After gathering the supplies for Dean's transfusion, he attached the unit of blood to the clear plastic tubing and inserted it into the canulla. He once again tied the rubber tubing around Dean's arm until a vein presented itself, then released the blood out of the canulla to be sure no air remained trapped in the apparatus, and inserted the needle into the exposed vein. He adjusted the drip to flow at a rate of one unit per 45 minutes, slightly slower than Sam's, to allow Dean's body more time to adjust to the foreign blood, hoping that in doing so, Dean might be spared the reaction Sam was suffering.

Having secured the desperately needed fluids, Bobby's concern immediately turned to stopping the blood flow from Dean's shoulder.

Dean had practically denied any injury at all in the beginning, then passed out with his brother in his arms, later aroused to assist Sam with his painful procedure, then finally collapsed again. The up and down, back and forth of Dean's behavior had made it difficult for Bobby to gage how serious the young hunter's injury really was. While exhaustion was clearly a factor, Bobby knew from Dean's second collapse that it had to have been much worse than Dean had originally let on.

He grabbed Dean's t-shirt and ripped it top to bottom eager to find out.

Bobby lay back the pieces of torn fabric and cursed. The bullet had actually gone into the shoulder, not just skimmed it. He quickly checked Dean's back. There was no sign that the damn thing had exited. The bullet remained lodged somewhere inside Dean's body.

Based on the location of the wound and the degree of blood that still oozed from it, the bullet had traveled deeply into his flesh, possibly even made it all the way to the scapula or worse, ricocheted, coming to rest in any number of places inside Dean.

Bobby hoped it hadn't ricocheted. Probing for a bullet is hard enough as it is, but to search for one without a clue as to where the hell it went, would be difficult, dangerous, and damn near impossible. It could even result in additional injuries which would be unmanageable without professional help. If the bullet wasn't straight in, he would search near the area, but if unsuccessful, he'd have to take the hunter to the emergency room. With the recent motel shooting, it would spell big trouble for the already hunted man.

Bobby cleaned off as much blood as he could from around the wound, swabbed the surrounding tissues with iodine to sterilize the area, and picked up his probing tool. He gently slid the long metallic instrument straight into the seeping hole hoping desperately to feel the bullet just below the surface.

Dean moaned, as his unconscious body felt the intrusion.

Bobby paused for a second, not wanting to go further until he knew Dean would not be moving.

"I-Is h-he okkay?" a soft voice shivered out from the bed next to him. Hearing his brother moan had brought the sleeping sibling to awareness, as if his brother's voice was like a homing beacon.

Bobby immediately turned and found two glassy eyes looking fearfully at him.

"Sam," Bobby whispered.

"I h-heard h-him m-moan. Is h-he ok-kay?" he asked worriedly as he glanced at the tubes that were feeding his brother blood and saline.

Bobby removed the probe and latex gloves, checked Dean's IV and transfusion and, once certain both were working effectively, moved over to Sam's bed.

He placed his hand gently on the fevered Winchester's forehead. Sam's skin was still hellish hot, glistening with perspiration, his cheeks were flushed, and he was shivering uncontrollably. Bobby guessed his temperature was hovering around 103 even with the Tylenol, which actually meant the fever would be 104 or more without help.

Sam shivered as Bobby's ice cold hand pressed up against his wet, salty forehead. His glassy eyes searched Bobby's and he reiterated his question.

"D-Dean-n. Is h-he okkay?" Sam shook as he put his casted hand on Bobby's arm beckoning for an answer.

Bobby wanted so badly to tell Sam that Dean was fine, but truth was, he wasn't doing too well. He reached over, took the glass on Sam's nightstand, and lifted the young hunter up, pressing it to his lips. Sam willingly drank and Bobby began to explain.

"Your brother passed out, Sam," Bobby explained as gently as he could.

Sam stopped drinking and looked worriedly up at Bobby. His fevered eyes searched the hunter's trying desperately to find out how bad his brother's condition was.

The older hunter hesitated, not wanting to upset the sick young sibling more than necessary. Sam's pleading eyes were difficult to deny and Bobby finally surrendered the details.

"His blood pressure is low, Sam. But I started an IV and a unit of blood, so it should be coming back up soon. I'm going after the bullet next. Hopefully it's just under the skin," Bobby explained trying to give the anxious sibling some comfort that his brother would be alright.

"Y-you g-gotta s-save h-him, B-Bobby," Sam shivered out anxiously as his strength began to wane. "P-please."

"Of course I will, son. He's going to be just fine."

He offered Sam another sip, but the young Winchester turned away.

Sam's head was pounding as the overheated blood coursed through the restricted vessels in his head. He could barely think and he closed his eyes as dizziness made the world around him shift and spin.

Bobby sensed Sam was struggling with the upright position and gently laid him back down. He felt the young fevered boy go limp in his hands.

"Are you okay?" he questioned worried about Sam's weakness.

Sam nodded, though his glassy eyes and pained expression said differently.

"Are you in pain, Sam?"

"M-my h-head and my chest h-hurts," the anguished Winchester admitted.

Bobby frowned and wanted to know more. "Your cracked ribs? Is that what's hurting?"

"D-don't know-w. G-guess s-so. H-help D-Dean, B-b-bobby," Sam softly pleaded not really caring about himself at the moment.

Bobby wiped his hand across his face. He imagined with Sam's fever that he probably had one hell of headache and had hoped the Tylenol might help with that, but he didn't like the fact that Sam's chest was in pain and feared the kid might be starting to have difficulty breathing.

"Can you breathe okay, son?" Bobby questioned trying to diagnose the pain Sam was referring to.

Sam nodded.

Bobby rested his hand on Sam's chest and timed his respirations again. They were fast, but even. The muscles seemed to be straining slightly, but Bobby couldn't tell for sure.

Sam trembled as another wave of chills shook him.

The hunter, turned medic, pulled the blanket over him and tucked it in around his sides. He gently raised Sam's injured arm and placed it on top where he could keep an eye on it. Sam's arm was still cool to the touch. He lifted it again slightly and massaged his hand and fingers trying to aid the blood as it circulated through his wounded limb. It concerned the hunter that his hand and arm were cool when the rest of the kid's body was so damn hot.

Sam didn't complain or even wince when Bobby moved the damaged limb and the hunter became suspicious.

"How's your arm? Does it hurt, too?" the hunter questioned realizing Sam hadn't mentioned it as one of the pains he was experiencing. He didn't know if Sam left it out because it was obvious or if the kid wasn't feeling pain there.

Sam shook his head 'no'.

Bobby was alarmed. He glanced back over at Sam's arm and gently placed his hand on Sam's wrist to feel for a pulse. To his relief, he could feel the steady, albeit fast, thumping. The limb was getting blood. Then he moved his hand down into Sam's.

"Can you feel my hand in yours?" Bobby questioned gently.

"I-I fffeel p-pressure, b-but m-mostly it fffeels n-numb," Sam admitted knowing that wasn't a good thing.

"Can you squeeze my hand?" Bobby questioned worriedly when Sam described the lack of feeling he was experiencing.

Sam tried, but his fingers would not respond. His glassy eyes grew wide and fear began to shudder through him. He shook his head.

Bobby tried not to act alarmed, but inside, bells were ringing off the wall. Sam's arm had been without blood on and off for a long time and he was worried about tissue damage. If the blood supply had been denied for too long, the limb may have been damaged beyond repair.

"Well, give it time son. I'm sure once the feeling comes back, the movement will too," Bobby tried to offer encouragingly. He hoped Sam could not detect his concern. The kid needed to get well first before trying to deal with a possible outcome of his injury.

Sam nodded nervously and bit his lip trying to hold back tears that were threatening to fall. He felt an overwhelming need for Dean, to hear from his older brother that his hand would be alright. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bobby, but he knew Dean would tell it like it is and he wanted his brother to verify Bobby's thoughts.

He suddenly felt so alone. Dean was his anchor and right now he didn't know if his brother was gonna be okay. Sam hadn't been sure if he could get past all that had happened...the roadhouse... the hospital...the motel... but with Dean, he had started to believe that he could..one hour at a time…with Dean by his side. Now, his brother's life was in danger and he felt helpless to do anything about it. If Dean didn't make it, he knew he wouldn't either.

"You rest, Sam," Bobby whispered unaware of the youngest sibling's thoughts. He tapped Sam gently on his shoulder. "I'm gonna work on getting that bullet out of our brother," he added as he began to rise.

Sam nodded, anxious to have his brother freed from danger. He licked his dry lips with the little moisture he had left from the drink Bobby had given him.

"H-hey," he suddenly shivered out as he removed his right hand from under the covers and grabbed the hunter's arm.

Bobby turned back at Sam's gentle call.

"C-can you t-tell mme h-how its g-going?" Sam's glassy eyes begged. " I-I n-need t-to kn-now h-he's o-kkay,"

"I'll tell you everything, Sam, I promise," Bobby whispered, tapping Sam's arm gently twice. "You rest now, okay?"

Sam nodded, tucked his arm under the covers, and turned his head in his brother's direction.

Bobby returned to Dean and put on a new pair of latex gloves. He didn't want to take a chance on introducing any kind of infection into Dean's wound if Sam's fever was illness related, though he was sure it was not.

He picked up the probe and reinserted it in the wound.

Dean groaned again.

"B-Bobby?" Sam anxiously whispered.

"Just putting in the probe, Sam. He's still out," the hunter gently commentated.

Sam shifted nervously as he strained his neck to see his brother's face. A pile of discarded medical supplies blocked his view.

"A-and?" he shivered out anxiously waiting to hear if the bullet was just below the surface as he had hoped.

"Aaaannnd….." Bobby paused as he pushed it deeper into the wound hoping to hit the bullet straight in. He hit bone instead. _Damn _Bobby remained silent, unable to report any good news to the waiting sibling.

Sam sensed Bobby's disappointment.

"It's nnot th-there, isss it," the youngest Winchester sadly announced.

Sam shivered, aggravating the already unmanageable throb in his head. The disappointment, worry, and fear, mixed with the pain brought on a wave of nausea that was almost overwhelming and the young hunter feared he would be sick. He turned his head back and stared at the ceiling as he tried to keep his stomach from exploding.

"No, Sam, I'm sorry," Bobby regrettably informed the worried sibling.

"Y-you g-gonna p-probe?" Sam whispered nervously, trying hard to concentrate as his mind seemed to be trying to separate from his body. He felt a brief disconnect and the floaty feeling that went with it. He shivered and forced his way back by sheer determination of his will.

"Yeah. It must have hit the bone and traveled," Bobby fearfully reported.

It was the worst case scenario and both he and Sam knew it. The bullet could be anywhere, just slightly over or it could have traveled around inside Dean's chest cavity.

Bobby glanced over to see how the fevered Winchester was handling the news.

Sam's glassy eyes were glued to the ceiling, disappointment and fear radiated out from him along with the heat from his temperature.

Knowing there was nothing he could do or say to ease the young man's stress, Bobby put his focus back on Dean. The best way to help Sam right now was to save Dean.

Bobby began angling the probe and searching the tissue around where the bullet had gone in. He checked the left side from the skin, down through the muscle, and all the way to the bone. Nothing. Dean moaned, but didn't cry out or awaken.

He withdrew the probe, moved it clockwise about 2 mm, and began sliding the instrument from the skin down to the bone again. Still, he felt nothing.

Sam grew anxious in waiting. His head was pounding , his fever wracked body wss weary beyond measure. He was losing ground in his battle to stay conscious and wanted desperately to know that the bullet was out before he could allow himself to be overtaken.

"Bob…..b-by?"Sam questioned. His voice was soft, slow, and unsteady, more like a whispered prayer.

"Nothing yet, Kiddo," Bobby gently offered. "You doing okay over there?" he asked detecting the change in Sam's voice and its strength.

Dean suddenly flinched and a gasp escaped his lips.

Bobby froze fearing he might cause damage should the eldest Winchester choose to move.

After a moment, it was obvious Dean was still unconscious. Bobby signed and looked over to Sam, surprised the kid wasn't asking for details.

Sam lay on the bed with his head tilted to the side. A blank stare in his glassy eyes revealed he was there, but not quite with it. He slowly blinked and breathlessly whispered his brother's name. "dea"

"He's definitely feeling it, Sam. I must be close." Bobby reported to the overly passive sibling. "He's still unconscious."

Bobby wanted to recheck Sam's vitals to be sure his failing was exhaustion based and not that he was losing his battle with the donor blood, but he knew he needed to continue with Dean. The wound was bleeding more profusely than when he had first started probing and he feared Dean's blood pressure would drop dangerously low if he lost too much blood.

Bobby hesitated, chewed on his lip, and finally decided he had to continue. He determined to check on Sam as soon as the bullet was out.

Sam lay still and, with what little strength he had left, began to will his brother to be okay, for Bobby to find the bullet and retrieve it before Dean suffered any more pain. The anxiety on top of Sam's fever eventually forced his body to the brink and he finally lost his touch with reality and unwillingly surrendered to the darkness that had been calling to him.

Sensing Sam was no longer with him, Bobby worried as to whether he should allow the kid to drift off or try to keep him awake. While Sam needed rest, he feared his condition was more complicated than that. He felt powerless to do anything about it at the moment since Dean's bleeding was more life threatening. He decided he'd have to let the youngest Winchester sleep.

Bobby had to calm himself down as the tension of the situation could easily effect the steadiness of his hand and he couldn't risk injuring Dean further. He carefully probed three more times. Each time Dean's body responded in the same area so he decided to explore more carefully there. He forced the probe in and angled it more severely. The instrument was almost completely inserted when Dean suddenly woke up and cried out.

The startled medic quickly clamped his arm down hard across the pained Winchester's shoulder, neck and chest to keep him from moving and quickly withdrew the probe.

Sam startled, having awakened to his brother's anguished cry.

Dean opened his tearing, pain filled eyes and cursed.

"Welcome, back," Bobby rasped when their eyes met as he continued to pin the young hunter firmly against the bed.

"Son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing to me?" Dean questioned as he felt Bobby's restraint and the tubes pulling on his arms as he tried to move them.

"Easy, Dean. You passed out. I've given you some blood and saline and I'm trying to find the bullet."

"Jeez, Bobby, why don't you try using a freakin steak knife for god sake. It would probably hurt a hell of a lot less!"

"Sorry, kiddo, no steak knives in this crappy apartment. I had to use what was handy," he replied as he held up the bloody probe. He let up on his restraint once he was sure Dean wasn't going to fight him.

"D-dean? Y-you a-alright?" Sam shivered groggily, wanting to know if he was okay and finding the distance between the beds painful.

Dean turned towards his brother's voice. "Sammy?"

"Y-yeah" Sam answered weakly.

"You okay?" Dean questioned worriedly as he realized he'd lost touch with his brother and had no idea of his condition. The nightstand was full of stuff and Dean couldn't clearly see his brother.

"Y-yeah," Sam whispered out as Bobby removed some of the clutter when he realized they couldn't make eye contact.

Dean's eyes finally fell on his little brother. Sam's appearance was frightening as he lay flat on his back, white as a sheet, clearly unable to hold his head up. His cheeks were still flushed in sharp contrast to the rest of his skin, his bangs still glued to his glistening face. His little brother's glassy eyes stared back at him. Sam looked sick, desperately sick.

Dean looked worriedly at Bobby. "Talk to me, Bobby! What's goin on?"

"He's still got a fever..."

"How high?" Dean interrupted.

"103, probably higher"

" Probably?" Dean questioned finding Bobby's uncertainty intolerable.

"Last time I checked. I've been working on you," Bobby explained apologetically, knowing Dean would never accept himself as the reason for Sam's neglect.

"Is that with the Tylenol?" Dean asked incredulously.

Bobby nodded. "Double dosed him."

"Damn it!"

"His breathing isn't compromised and he's awake, Dean." Bobby offered trying to let the worried sibling know that Sam was not losing any ground even with the fever.

"'m -ffine, Dean. J-just got a f-fever's all," Sam tried to reassure his worried brother. His slow almost slurred speach had the opposite effect.

Dean bit his lip. There was nothing he could do to help Sam and it was absolutely frustrating. His little brother's body had to come to terms with the donor blood. It was a war being fought inside, a place where Dean couldn't go and help fight and protect his brother and he felt an overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

"I need to finish this up, Dean," Bobby announced. "You're losing blood."

Dean ignored Bobby and held his gaze on his little brother trying desperately to think of what they could do to help Sam have the best advantage to fight and win.

"You're no good to Sam if I don't," Bobby added.

"P-please, D-Dean," Sam begged in his weak, vulnerable voice.

Dean looked at his brother's fevered pleading eyes. Knowing there was nothing he could do to help Sam with his internal battle, he decided he could at least give his little brother less to worry about. He turned his attention to Bobby and he conceded.

Bobby held up the probe.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Just hurry up about it," Dean groused. Head on was the way Dean liked to handle things and the sooner it was done, the sooner he could be with Sam.

Sam held his breath as Bobby reinserted the probe and continued methodically searching the area where Dean showed the most distress.

Dean flinched several times, gasped and then hollered out in pain.

Sam's eyes flew open wide when he saw his brother struggling to manage it.

"Found it," Bobby declared.

"No sh-shit," Dean hissed between clenched teeth.

Bobby removed the probe and checked Dean's blood pressure. With two units in his system and the saline, his levels were now within the range of normal.

"You want some morphine? Your blood pressure looks good. Would help with the pain."

"No," Dean flatly stated. Morphine, even at its lowest dose, would make him out of it for a while and he wanted to able to help Sam as soon as the damn bullet was removed.

"Okay, then, I need to probe once more to get a feel for its position, then I'll remove it." Bobby explained.

Dean nodded and braced himself for the pain.

Sam watched anxiously, though his vision was somewhat unclear. He periodically blinked his eyes trying to regain his focus and he once again felt himself beginning to disconnect with his body. His body jerked as he thought he was falling, but quickly regained its awareness and he refocused on his brother.

Sam's struggle went unnoticed by Bobby whose full attention remained on the dangerous task that lay before him. He had to be very careful that in searching the damaged tissue, he didn't cause more injuries or restart any bleeders that had already clotted on their own.

Bobby reinserted the probe deeply into Dean's damaged shoulder and angled it until he located the bullet.

Dean clenched his teeth and tried to control his breathing in the steady, in and out pattern his father had taught him. It usually helped him manage his pain.

Bobby began rotating the probe's tip, trying to feel down along the bullet's sides and circled it trying to get a mental picture in his mind of its exact position for extraction.

A gasp and deep moan escaped the hunter's stiffened lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Damn, Dean. It's at a tough angle and pretty deep. It's gonna be a bitch to remove," Bobby acknowledged apologetically.

"Just do it," the brave hunter ordered. Truth was he just wanted the damn thing out and was willing to go through hell if that's what it would take. The sooner it was out, the sooner he would heal, and the sooner he would be able to help Sam.

Bobby traded the probe for long handled extractor and paused outside the wound.

Dean opened his eyes when nothing happened. Bobby was hovering above him, looking in his eyes almost as if seeking a "go".

Dean nodded and Bobby began. He gently forced the extractors in.

Dean hissed and clenched his teeth. He closed his eyes and went deep within himself so as not to lose control. His eyes stung with unwanted tears.

Sam's eyes teared along with his brother's.

"Almost got it," Bobby coached trying to offer Dean encouragement.

Dean gasped and started cursing. " ah..f…son of a bitch…errrr."

Sam's heart began racing when he heard his brother's painful exclamations. His head began thumping, a wave of dizziness followed by nausea washed over him. He started to see darkness around the edges of his sight and watched as it slowly enveloped his image of his pained brother. He wanted to scream 'no', to order the darkness away, to explain that his brother was in pain and needed him, but his mouth could utter no sound. He felt his mind disconnect with his body and found himself getting sucked into the world of fevered sleep.

Dean's whole body began to shake uncontrollably from the pain. All the breathing, teeth clenching, and cursing could no longer enable him to manage the excruciating pain that was shattering every nerve in his body. It was as if his whole nervous system had join in chorus to make sure his brain realized that his shoulder was in serious pain, as if for some reason, Dean hadn't already noticed it. Sweat began to pour out of his skin as his body desperately tried to dump the pain as if it were a toxic intrusion that needed to be flushed from his system.

"Hold still, Dean. I think I got it." Bobby coached again as he withdrew the extractors from the trembling hunter.

The bullet emerged with a wet suction like sound as the skin released its hold of the bloody metal prongs and the bullet that lay clamped between them.

Bobby held up the prize for Dean to see, but the overcome Winchester had been swept away by the pain into an unconscious world where there were no bullets, no hunters, no demons, and no pain.

Bobby nodded, not at all surprised that Dean had been taken by the pain. He dropped the bullet onto the nightstand and turned to celebrate with Sam.

Sam was also unconscious, his face a ghostly white. His breaths were so fast, it was if he was breathing in and out at the same time.

Bobby quickly pulled off his gloves and ran over to the young hunter's side.

"Sam?" he questioned worriedly as he began to check his vitals. Sam's pulse was racing, his respirations were fast and shallow. Bobby grabbed the thermometer and checked his temperature and to his despair, it registered 103.9 degrees.

Bobby was torn between cooling down Sam's body to prevent convulsions and stitching up Dean's wound which was now hemorrhaging.

Bobby cursed. He decided he needed to do both.

He threw off Sam's covers and tore open his shirt. Sam's chest was moving up and down at an incredibly fast rate, the muscles surrounding his boney ribcage seemed to be struggling. Bobby grabbed the wet cloth that had fallen off of Sam's forehead, dipped it in the cool water and laid it on top of his head and ran into the bathroom. He doused two large towels with lukewarm water and wrung them out as best he could, then threw them on top of Sam as well, hoping they would cool his body and absorb some of the heat. He attached a new saline bag to Sam's IV and turned his attentions to Dean.

He quickly put on some clean gloves, readied the needle and thread for sutures, and began to stitch the open wound. He had to blot the gushing wound constantly, as blood continued to fill it making it difficult to see. He wasn't able to stitch where the bullet had actually been lodged. It was too deep and at too steep of an angle, but he went as deep as he could and worked his way to the surface, one suture at a time, blotting as he went.

Thirty minutes later, after changing Dean's IV and administering another unit of blood, he finished the final stitching. Dean had fortunately remained unconscious through out the surgery and Bobby was extremely grateful.

He quickly checked Dean's vitals and was pleased everything was falling into the low normal range even with the blood loss he had suffered during the surgery. Dean did not show any sign of fever which meant no infection and no rejection of the blood he'd been given. He removed the blood transfusion, as it was no longer needed now that Dean's blood pressure was in an acceptable range.

Bobby took off his gloves and immediately turned his attentions back to Sam. The wet towels draped across Sam's body had absorbed the heat that radiated off the fevered Winchester and were warm to the touch. Bobby felt Sam's forehead. His skin was still hellish hot. If there had been a change, it was minimal and certainly not in the right direction.

He quickly took the young Winchester's temperature. _Shit! _104.2 degrees

He needed to get the kid in the tub.

"Sam?" he called softly trying to awaken the sick young man.

"Sam!"

Bobby could not arouse the fevered young hunter and knew he couldn't maneuver the kid safely in and out of the tub in his condition. He'd need to cool Sam's body down in the bed.

He ran to the kitchen, grabbed the ice box from the freezer and four kitchen towels. He frantically searched the cabinets, found a pitcher, and filled it with lukewarm water. He paused trying to think of anything else he could use to help reduce his fever. Coming up with nothing, he took off toward the bedroom.

Upon his arrival, he began pouring the cooler liquid from the pitcher on the towels as they lay against the overheated man. The towels quickly absorbed the water, though some dripped onto the bed below and he flipped them over, placing the cooler side against Sam's exposed chest and covered legs. He dropped the emptied pitcher on the bed and rapidly began wrapping the ice cubes in the kitchen towels and twisting the ends to keep them inside. He put one on Sam's neck opposite his IV. He hurriedly removed the hunter's socks, and placed a bag at each ankle. The last bag he set on Sam's wrist.

He ran over to the bathroom sink and refilled the pitcher and began dousing the heated towels on Sam's chest, then flipped them over again. He repeated the process over and over, desperately trying to reduce Sam's fever to a safer level.

Having awakened from the frenzied activity going on beside him, Dean became aware of Bobby's frantic movements and realized something was wrong.

"What's goin on, Bobby? Talk to me!" Dean's voice rasped out.

"Sam's temperature is over 104, Dean," the hunter anxiously called out.

Dean's heart beat doubled and slammed against his chest. At 103.5 the body can begin to have fever convulsions. At 105 degrees, there can be permanent damage. He began ripping out his IV as he struggled to sit up and help.

"Stay down, Dean. Let me handle this. You're in no condition to help," Bobby growled as he continued his ministrations.

"Like hell, I'm not," Dean hissed and finally stood with the help of the nightstand and Bobby's shirt, which Dean had to grab hold of to keep himself from falling over.

Bobby turned around and steadied the stubborn young hunter. "You should be in bed," he growled pointlessly.

Dean, with Bobby's help, sat down on the bed beside his brother's inferno-like frame. Even from his position, he could feel the heat radiating from his little brother's body. He reached over and felt for Sam's pulse. The hysterical beating of the blood beneath his fingers made it difficult to time. Suffice it to say, his pulse was dangerously fast, the speed at which his blood was pumping through his body was likely to be ineffective at providing the air needed to the various parts of Sam's body.

"C'mon Sammy, you gotta cool down," Dean whispered as he removed the towels from his brother's chest and allowed the air to whisk away some of his little brother's body heat. He passed the towels to Bobby, who ran them into the bathroom and doused them in the tub's facet.

Dean placed his hand, palm down, on his brother's chest hoping to absorb some of the heat into himself until Bobby returned. He felt his brother's chest rising and falling at an unbelievable rate, as if a dog panting after a hard run.

"C'mon, Sammy, slow it down," Dean anxiously begged as his now hot hand moved in a slow, calming motion across his little brother's chest.

Bobby returned and Dean assisted him in placing the soaking towels on top of Sam. Bobby retightened the ice bags he had created and repositioned them on Sam to provide better contact.

"Where's the thermometer?" Dean questioned needing to know if their efforts were working or whether they needed to dial 911.

Bobby rechecked Sam's temperature….. 103.4 degrees.

Both sighed in relief. While 103.4 degrees was not preferred, it was not likely to cause convulsions.

"Let's get some more Tylenol in him," Dean instructed as he moved to arouse his unconscious brother.

Bobby grabbed three tablets and the water glass from the nightstand.

"Sam?" Dean gently called out.

Sam did not respond.

"Sammy?" he called again more forcefully.

Sam stirred and opened his eyes with his brother's name on his lips.

"D-Dea"

"Yeah, Sam, it's me," the older sibling answered. "Sorry kiddo, I just needed you to wake up for a minute," he apologized.

"Hhhow's D-Dean?" Sam slurred out while his glassy eyes searched for his brother on the bed opposite him.

Dean's face contorted in worried fear as he realized Sam didn't recognize him. He looked over at Bobby who was reflecting the same expression back to him. He gently took his brother's face in his hand, feeling the sting of his brother's cheek in his palm.

"Sammy, s'me, kiddo. I'm right here," he gently explained as he searched his brother's eyes for some sense of recognition.

"B-bobby?" Sam whispered out again completely disoriented. In his mind, no time had passed. Dean was still on the bed in pain with a bullet in his shoulder. Bobby was beside him telling him everything that was happening.

"I'm here, Sam," the worried, older hunter voiced as he sat down on the other side of the bed and moved in closer.

"D-dea?"

Dean went to answer as he tried desperately to maintain control of his panic. Bobby gently put his hand on Dean's arm and held his finger to his lips instructing Dean not to answer and let him try interacting with the clearly confused boy.

"Dean's good, Sam." Bobby's voice hitched as he too struggled with his concern for Sam's incoherency. " I got the bullet, he's stitched, and his blood pressure is good. He's right…."

Sam nodded and began to slowly close his eyes. "S'good," he interrupted before Bobby could finish telling him Dean was there beside him. He began drifting off to sleep.

Dean felt hollow inside. He was worried sick and found it painful not to exist in his brother's mind. He sat helplessly and allowed Bobby, who had clearly established a connection to his little brother, to continue.

Bobby hurt for Dean as he knew the hunter was feeling both frightened and devastated.

"No sleeping, Sam, I need you to take something for me," Bobby instructed as he passed the water and medicines to Dean and struggled to lift the soaked Winchester up enough to take more Tylenol.

As Sam was lifted he became aware of a second presence beside him. His glassy eyes searched to see who was there. The welcomed image of his brother caused the corners of his dried, cracked lips to curl in a slight smile.

"D-Dean?" he asked confusedly, trying to match his understanding of his brother's situation with his presence before him.

"Yeah," Dean smiled, relieved that his brother was able to recognize he was there.

Sam immediately switched his focus from interacting with Bobby to Dean.

"Y-you okkay?" he shivered out weakly.

"I'm good, Sammy. Bobby, here, fixed me up just fine."

"Can I have that in writing?" Bobby asked with a smile, relieved Sam was more coherent and that his confusion had not been a sign of damage from an undetected fever convulsion.

"You wish," Dean teased planning to hold the hunter responsible for his painful handiwork. He too was feeling somewhat light hearted that Sam was back with him.

Sam suddenly shivered and became aware of how wet he was. He looked down at his body and noticed the soaked towels.

"P-please t-tell m-me I d-didn't." he embarrassingly shivered out.

The smart ass spirit in Dean couldn't help but smile and want to take advantage of his brother's situation, but the big brother in him just couldn't. "No, Sam, you didn't. We doused you to cool you off. Now open your mouth and swallow these okay?"

Sam shivered, opened his mouth, and felt three tablets on his tongue. A cool glass was pressed against his lips and he began to swallow the liquid that flowed down his throat, the pills along with it.

"Good," Bobby praised as he laid the fevered Winchester back down on the bed.

"M'm c-cold, D-Dean," Sam shivered out as he felt the familiar feeling of his body disconnecting with his mind. He was exhausted, fevered, and now sure his brother was okay, and all he wanted to do was to sleep.

"I know. Sorry, kiddo, but we need to keep your fever down. I promise we'll warm you up in a little bit, okay?"

Sam nodded, too exhausted to care. His eyes began to blink slowly and he found himself beginning to drift back to sleep.

Dean watched as his brother's eyes stayed closed more than open as they blinked. Eventually, they shut in sleep.

Dean felt for his brother's forehead and asked Bobby to help him check Sam's vitals. He wanted to be sure Sam was just sleeping and hadn't lost consciousness.

Bobby gladly obliged.

While Sam's pulse and respirations were clearly accelerated, they were definitely at a better rate than before. Bobby announced his blood pressure was good. Dean took Sam's temperature. Both men signed in relief when it came back 102.5. It felt strange to find relief in such a high fever, but both knew Sam was safe, for the moment, and that was what mattered.

Dean and Bobby began removing the towels from Sam's body and the ice from his ankles and wrist. Bobby got a fresh towel from the bathroom and laid it on top of Sam to soak up some of the water.

Dean pulled the covers back up and tucked them around his little brother's shivering frame as best he could with one hand . He paused and looked down on his sleeping sibling. His heart ached for the kid and he was glad, at least for now, that he wasn't suffering.

"Sleep well, Sammy," he whispered, "and beat this thing for me, will ya? Okay, kiddo? You beat this thing."

Bobby, who had been watching Dean interact with his little brother, nodded. His heart echoed Dean's words.

oooOOOooo

Soon after the relief of the situation wore off, exhaustion and pain made themselves known. Dean literally felt what little strength he had, drain out onto the floor and he knew he needed to lay down before he fell down and gave Bobby another reason to yell at him.

Unfortunately, mind over matter does not always work and as Dean rose to return himself to bed, he felt his legs buckle beneath him.

Bobby, who had anticipated that Dean's strength was on borrowed time from the beginning and solely based on Sam's needs, was there to right him and escort him to his bed. He helped the hunter lay down and covered him up.

"Gee, thanks dad," Dean whispered sarcastically, feeling embarrassed at needing the care. "Do I get a bedtime story, too?"

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, I'll give ya a bed time story, wise ass," he replied with a scowl on his face. He suddenly paused realizing Dean had given him one hell of an opportunity with his bedtime story crack and he knew he just couldn't let it pass by.

With a twinkle in his eye, he began. "Once upon a time…."

"Oh, god, not a fairy tale!" Dean grumbled sarcastically. "Please, don't let there be a dragon in it. I'm sick of slaying the damn things."

Bobby looked at Dean with a sharp corrective glance, indicating that he was not to interrupt the telling of this bedtime saga. Bobby had a plan and he was determined to bring it to completion. Dean had opened the door and he wasn't about to let the arrogant kid slam it shut.

"Alright, alright, carry on. I wouldn't want to _mess _with your story telling," Dean smugly replied, though inside he had every intention of driving the guy nuts. This was way more fun than just interrupting the guy's newspaper reading.

Bobby began again, "Once upon a time…"

"Why the hell do fairy tales always begin that way? Is it that they don't have watches in Wonderland or that they're too stupid to tell time," he quipped and looked up at Bobby to see if he had ruffled his feathers.

"Now, how the hell should I know! You're the one that wanted a story, damn it! So shut up and listen to it!"

"Fine," Dean snapped playfully back.

"Fine" Bobby spat. He paused and took a deep breath preparing to begin again.

"Once upon a time….." Dean over dramatized in a sing song-y voice to get Bobby started.

"There was this noble hunter," Bobby put out smoothly.

Dean smiled, surprised Bobby had actually said something nice about him for a change.

"And……a pain in the ass brat…" Bobby declared smugly.

"HEY! You can't do that!"

"What? It's my story so I can tell it any god damn way I want!"

"Then forget it. I'd rather listen to Sammy snore." Dean deliberately turned his head towards his brother essentially putting an end to Bobby's story telling days.

"Fine," Bobby spat and discontinued his story. Damn if the kid hadn't won again.

Silence ruled for a few seconds as the two book ends held their ground.

"Thought so," Dean eventually added smugly knowing he had beaten the old hunter at his own game.He'd detected the glint in his eye and figured the guy was up to something and was pleased, even in his condition, that he could still beat him at his own game.

Bobby watched as the arrogant hunter closed his eyes and settle down to sleep. Refusing to believe he had lost, he just stood there staring.

After a few minutes, Dean opened one eye and just as he suspected Bobby was hovering.

"What?"

'Nothing," Bobby stated flatly realizing his staring was driving the arrogant Winchester crazy. He knew he could outlast the kid at this game, cuz he could tell he was struggling to stay awake as it was.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stand there and stare at me?"

"Nope"

"Fine, suit yourself," Dean announced and closed his eyes.

"I always do," Bobby quipped back eager to have the last word.

The playful banter was refreshing after all they'd been through that night.

Dean remained silent. He was determined to remain awake until the hunter moved on and then planned to rub it in that he had outlasted the stubborn mule and won the stand off.

Bobby waited a few more minutes expecting another one of Dean's wise cracks, but to his surprise, one never came. The exhausted Winchester had actually drifted off to sleep right before his eyes.

"Thought so," he whispered softly with a gentle smile on his face to the non-hearing boy. He placed the blankets more tightly around the sleeping hunter's shoulders.

The hunter, turned medic, took a standing position between the two beds and glanced from one to the other, checking over each boy as he lay sleeping. Dean was okay and, for the moment, Sam was too. Bobby knew he needed to watch the eldest sibling for an infection and internal bleeding and the youngest for any increase in temperature, difficult breathing, or signs of infection. It was going to be a long night and the hunter knew that the next few hours would be very telling.

Bobby finally sat at the edge of the Sam's bed and found himself sliding down to the floor. He placed his elbows on his bent knees and rubbed his weary hands through his graying hair. God, he could see why he never wanted to be a parent. Between the worry, the pain of seeing the boys suffer, the fear for their safety and well being, and the anxiety of not knowing what the future held for them, John's boys had nearly put him in an early grave. Somehow, deep inside, if the gruff old hunter would admit it, he knew he had already become a parent. These boys weren't just John's boys, they were his boys as well.

TBC

Thanks for all the wonderfully kind and encouraging reviews! You all keep me going! This story was originally eight chapters long and now look at it! I look forward to hearing from you again! Let me know what you like so I can do more of it! Rachelly

_To My Chapter 17 Anon Reviewers I have no way to respond to your faithful reviews so I thought I'd take a minute and do it here!!_

SciFi Girl: Glad ya love the details in my writing! Thanks for all your wonderful reviews and for the delicious chocolate souffle! Yummy!

Morgan: Thanks for the delicious chocolate and kind review! To answer your question, I had to study up a bit on the medical stuff since I don't have a medical background. I'm thrilled that it seems accurate and really adds to your enjoyment of this piece!!

Renniespice: Thanks for the review and encouragement. Yep, Bobby sure has his hands full, doesn't he? This chapter was no different! Hope you enjoyed it!

Sammygirl 1963: So glad you like the vivid details in my writing and that they keep you at the edge of your seat! I aim to please!

Just A Fan: I'm thrilled you like all the angst and suspense and enjoy my writing style! You asked for more angst….so I hope you enjoyed it!

Supernaturalmommy: Thanks for all your faithful reviews! They always make me smile! Glad you are enjoying Ambush so much!


	19. The Mountain

**Author's note**: The opening of this chapter has Dean in a _dream_-like state, somewhat aware of a conversation that is taking place in the room around him between Bobby and a visitor. The _dream_ and the conversation blend together, confusing the dashing young Casanova as he struggles to handle the two worlds as they collide. Hopefully, you the reader, will not be confused along with him! It is a new writing idea that I wanted to try out! Love to hear what ya think! Forever grateful for your patience and encouragement as I grow and develop as an author. Rachelly

**Chapter 19**

"_Sure, Dean, whatever you want," the sexy, slender young woman straddling him cooed in her silky, red negligee as she licked her perfectly formed, cherry lips. Her soft brown hair cascaded down her smooth shoulders, framing her form, accentuating the fullness of her breasts._

_Looking up at the nameless beauty that lingered above him, waiting and wanting, Dean decided red was definitely his favorite color. His face responded with approval, his body with anticipation. This is good, definitely a good….._

" …thing you made it back in time, Bobby," a voice bellowed out shattering the perfect moment Dean was enjoying in the quiet whispers of his sleeping mind.

_What the hell? the impassioned hunter wondered as the words pulled his attention briefly away from the gorgeous angel that hovered over him. He quickly glanced around the darkened room looking for the source of the intrusion. He was surprised when he came up empty. _

_Dean felt his face being gently cupped, long slender fingers with soft, warm tips brushed across his lips indicating good things were soon to happen there. He willingly allowed himself to be drawn back in. _

"_I'm just getting started," the vision of loveliness whispered in her sexy voice as she ran her hands down his bare chest. "You wouldn't want to be distracted, now would you, Dean?" she asked as her lips begged to press against his._

"_No! god, no," he categorically asserted as he anticipated her kiss. "You have my full and complete attention," he whispered as he reached his head forward to greet her luscious lips with his own. "I'm all yours for the whole…_

" ….night, which is good considering all they've been through. Probably the first good night's sleep either has had for a week."

_The voice once again clouded the atmosphere of the moment and made the vision of loveliness above him more difficult to see._

"_Dean?" the sensual woman beckoned when she noticed his mind was drifting elsewhere._

"_Huh?... Yeah, sweetheart," he whispered when her lips pulled away from his. He placed his hands on her silken arms and drew her into his embrace. He kissed her passionately, his lips melting into hers, becoming one._

"I think we're out of the woods," the voice interrupted again.

"_I hope not," Dean mumbled as his lips briefly seperated from hers. Her succulent mouth hung open while her eyes remained closed, waiting for his return. "I'm so looking forward to the woods," the impassioned Winchester expressed breathlessly as he once again melted his mouth onto hers._

_She returned his kiss, then moved down his chin, across his neck and over to his ear._ "_What?" the young dream maiden whispered as she tugged on his earlobe with her pearly white teeth._

_Dean ran his hands through her silky soft hair and redirected her lips back to his. He was determined to ignore the disruptive utterances as they seemed to come at the most inopportune times._

"Sam's had no fever or any other kind of reaction to the transfusion for the past twelve hours."

"_Sam?" Dean called out wondering why his brother's name had been mentioned by the voices that were so damn annoying. The words 'fever' and 'transfusion' tugged him nearer to a memory that lay hidden just below the surface of his now blissful world._

_He felt a shove as pain throbbed through his shoulder. _

"_Sam? No Lindsey, you moron!" the angered angel hissed as she crawled off of him and fixed her fallen strap._

"How 'bout his arm?" the deep, almost discernable voice questioned.

"_What? Wait! I wasn't calling you Sam, Lindsey," Dean desperately explained, glad he now new the amazing, albeit pissed young woman's name. He laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Sam's my…."_

"_I would have thought your mind would have been preoccupied with me at the moment!"_

"Bullet went straight through. Twenty-three stitches in all, but it looks good. Can't tell if there's any permanent nerve damage, though. Sure hope the kid doesn't have to deal with that."

"_Me too," the elder sibling added. He didn't want Sam to have any long term troubles. He wanted this whole damn incident, the roadhouse, the hospital, the motel, all of it put in the rearview mirror and left behind, him driving 90 miles an hour in the opposite direction._

"_Huh!" she humphed out angrily, feeling like she hadn't been sexy enough to hold his attention and furious that he had admitted that she wasn't._

"Location suggests, even if he does lose some feeling, the damage would be minimal," the deep, familiar voice concluded. "He's damn lucky the bullet didn't hit here, two inches higher. There's a bunch of nerves that join together that are key to the senses below the wrist that pass right through this spot."

_Minimal nerve damage. I should be so lucky. I sure as hell damaged a couple of this kitten's nerves._

_His attention was drawn back to the pouting young woman who sat beside him trying to decide what she should do. He felt he owed her an explanation, but wasn't quite sure exactly what to say. He decided to give it a try._

"_When I said, 'me too', I wasn't talking about you, Lindsey! I was saying 'me too' as in 'I don't want Sam to be hurt', not 'me too', I wish you were more interesting!" he tried to explain. He smiled awkwardly realizing his explanation probably made little sense to the brooding fox. He couldn't believe his perfect night was falling apart before his own eyes and he had absolutely no clue as to what was going on. Dean laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Only Sammy could somehow ruin his perfect night out._

_He eyed the girl to see if his explanation had been received and reiterated it in a coy and charming way, just in case she was sitting on the fence. _"_Seriously, I wasn't talking about you." _

"_Well, that's the problem isn't it!" she spat as she quickly got up, threw on her dress and grabbed her shoes. "You aren't talking about me!" she cried and stormed out of the bedroom. "Hope you have a nice time with Sam and that she's interesting enough for you!" _

_Dean could hear her muttering all the way down the hallway as her voice grew fainter with the distance._

_Dean rolled his eyes. Damn it! Who could ever understand the female species? No matter what you say, they always take it the wrong way and always just before the promised intimacy has had a chance to be realized. It was like their over emotional meter goes whacko just when things start getting interesting._

"_Wait!" Dean called out as he jumped out of bed and grabbed for his shirt, attempting to take off after her. He hoped, with a little groveling, he could get her to soften and at least give him a chance. After all, this was all a misunderstanding, right? He'd make sure she understood that Sam was his brother and he had no 'interest' in him what so ever...at least not in a sexual way, that was for damn sure._

_He hopped up and down through the hallway as he tried to move forward and put one shoe on each foot along the way. He barely made it to the living room before the door shut with a slam._

"_Ah, hell with it!" he hollered out as he tossed his second shoe across the room and took off in a run out the door. His sock quickly began soaking up the water that had collected just outside the apartment from the cold midnight rain. He tired not to notice it squishing between his toes as he ran down the apartment stairs. Instead he chose to look forward to making up. In his opinion, it was the best part of an argument. He determined he'd be sure to make her forgiveness worth her while. Course he couldn't quite explain why he was hearing voices in his head and talking to no one, but he'd think of something that would draw her back in._

"Yeah? Well, I hope to hell you're right. Sam scared the crap out of me two nights ago when he couldn't feel my hand or move his fingers. I'll tell you that."

_What? Sam couldn't move his hand or fingers? Shit! _

_Dean suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as reality finally collided with his perfect evening revealing it to be nothing more than a dream, a fantasy, and though it was a promising one, it could no longer hold his attention, not when Sam's well being was in question._

_"Okay, enough with this dream," he conceded as he watched the sexy goddess disappear from his thoughts. He waited for a moment expecting to wake up so he could return to his brother and make sure he was alright……….nothing happened. _

"_C'mon, Dean, wake up," he self talked. Nothing happened. "I hate these dreams! Damn it! You know you're asleep, but you can't wake up."_

"_Gigs over…I know I'm dreaming here!" he yelled to the maker of dreams wherever the hell the bastard was. "I need to wake up!" _

_Where the hell is the wake up button?_

_oooOOOooo_

"He can move his fingers slightly, now, but his ability to feel anything is still messed up."

"Nerves can take up to two years to heal, Bobby, but usually the first couple of months are a good indication of whether the nerves are gonna be okay."

Dean stirred noticeably having finally found his way out of his dream.

Both voices suddenly quieted.

The eldest Winchester became aware of a presence lurking over him and he slowly opened his eyes. He squinted from the brightness of the light. The darkened figure, with an almost white glowing light behind him, had an almost angelic appearance. Dean hoped his dream angel had returned.

Slowly, the being came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Hey, Dean," Bobby whispered as he reached over and checked Dean's wrist to monitor his pulse.

"Bobby," Dean acknowledged quietly and somewhat disappointedly. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Bobby, it was just he was hoping that maybe his dream had been more of a reality than she turned out to be.

He wiped his sleepy eyes and turned his head towards his younger brother. Bobby's soft voice had tipped him off that Sam was probably sleeping.

Sam was lying on his back. His chest was rising and falling in a calm, steady way, not in the hysterical panting way it had been before. His coloring looked good, not the ashen hue it had been the last time Dean had seen him. He had the same 'living off the street' look he had taken on when he had survived the withdrawal symptoms; his hair was even flat to his head. Dean knew the first project of the day would be to get his little brother cleaned up. Sam always felt better after a hot shower.

"How's the shoulder?" Bobby questioned softly.

Judging by the grimace on Dean's face when he had tried to lean over to check on his brother, Bobby figured it was hurting.

When Dean didn't answer, Bobby wasn't sure if it was because the answer was obvious or Dean didn't care about himself. His focus seemed clearly elsewhere.

"How is he?" Dean questioned needing to know about his little brother's condition.

"Sleeping now, but he's doing pretty good. He's weak, but that's to be expected. His fever's all but gone," Bobby announced with a smile on his face.

Dean nodded, seemingly pleased. He continued with his inquiry.

"How's his arm?"

"Healing. No signs of infection."

"What's this about his nerves?"

Bobby was surprised the young sibling had been aware of the earlier conversation. He looked over to Sam and hesitated.

"Bobby?" Dean questioned directly.

"He can move his fingers…. some…but.."

"But what?"

"But he doesn't have feeling from the elbow down."

Dean wiped his hand across his face and bit his lip. He was upset for Sam and upset with himself for not having been there with him when he had made the discovery. He knew his little brother had to have been scared. He looked worriedly at the family friend.

"How's he taking it?"

"He was upset. Mostly scared, I think. Believe it or not, having you in bad shape kinda helped keep his focus elsewhere."

"Do you think he'll get it back? The feeling…I mean," Dean questioned anxiously, looking to the family friend to tell it like it is.

"I'm sure he will, Dean," Bobby offered truly believing that Sam would. He couldn't consider the alternative and he knew Dean wouldn't be able to either.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to get past the 'no feeling from the elbow down' news that seemed to be stuck in the back of his throat.

Eventually, he continued.

"Vitals?" he choked out.

"Good. He's even been awake on and off the past day. All he does is check for you ," Bobby added with a warm smile, "Well, that and ask how you're doing, what your vitals are, if I think you're in pain, and when I think you'll wake up. He's tried a couple of times to get up and sit with you, but fell victim to the exhaustion that it caused each time. Thought of putting the kid in bed next to ya, but was afraid your damn IV's might get tangled," he added playfully.

Dean nodded, pleased to hear his little brother was thinking about him. It was a definite sign he was doing better if he was well enough to worry. He laid his head back down.

Bobby leaned over and began checking Dean's wound. It was swollen, but not abnormally so. He pressed on the tissue surrounding the stitches to gage the degree of inflammation and to see if the skin was hot to the touch which would indicate infection. There was no oozing or fever, so Bobby was confident the swelling was par for the course.

"Does this hurt?" he playfully asked as he finished up his exam with a gentle push. He meant to get a reaction, but didn't intend to hurt the kid.

"Of course it does, damn it!" Dean hissed as he pulled his shoulder away from the prodding hunter's hand.

"Guess that means there's no nerve damage for you," Bobby jested having enjoyed watching Dean squirm, although he felt a little guilty that he had actually caused the injured hunter pain to do so.

"Something's definitely getting on my nerves and let me tell you, it ain't my shoulder!" Dean sassed and then sneered.

Bobby shook his head, once again amazed at how easily the kid could flip things back on him.

Suddenly Bobby's words clicked in Dean's mind.

"Did you say Sam's been awake on and off the past _day_? How long have I been out?"

"It's been two days that you've been floatin' somewhere over the rainbow," Bobby announced half in humor and half in recognition of the hell he'd been through desperately trying to keep the two boys alive. "I was beginning to think the Wicked Witch of the West gotcha."

Dean grinned at his friend's sense of humor.

"Naw, I was just having way too much fun with Dorothy," he added with a sleazy smile. His mind quickly flashed back to Lindsey, who was much more impressive than Dorothy ever could have been.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Bobby acknowledged, pleased the kid still had his sense of humor. Things had been pretty tense the last few days and Bobby couldn't help but wonder if and when it would all catch up with Dean.

Dean looked over at a second face as it came up behind Bobby. He was surprised he hadn't noticed the towering man earlier. The familiar voice he'd dreamed of matched the one that now stood before him.

"Dean," the tall, extremely muscular, older man acknowledged in his deep, smooth voice.

"Joshua," Dean replied, surprised the hunter had stopped by to check on he and his brother. Normally, Joshua communicated by phone and skipped the personal contact.

oooOOOooo

The seasoned hunter had been one of John's hunting partners and an acquaintance of the family for years, though he always seemed to keep his distance from the boys. He was rougher, unskilled in the social graces, not that most hunters were socially skilled, but Joshua was even coarser than the average huntsman. Abrasive was a better way to describe him. He definitely wasn't paternal in any way, like Bobby. That was for sure. He had a sharp tongue, but it was seasoned with a good sense of humor, quite unexpected for a man of his stature and demeanor. Despite his hermit-like ways, John had always enjoyed his friendship and his company.

Over the years the boys had come to understand and respect the hunter. He had saved John's life more than a handful of times and faced a variety of supernatural creatures and beings, always escaping unscathed. John often jested with the man that he though he was immortal. Joshua always claimed it was purely his skill and wit that guarenteed his victories.

Sam never quite felt comfortable around Joshua and Dean was well aware of that fact. The uncomfortable feelings seemed mutual, as Joshua often commented on John's need to toughen Sam up a bit. Said he thought John was too soft on the kid, that Sam was too emotional, and that he needed a harder shell. The guy even took it upon himself to mess with Sam a couple of times, to try to toughen him up. It wasn't that the man meant to be mean or didn't care about the youngest Winchester, quite the opposite. It was that he'd been through hell in his own lifetime and learned to survive by being hard shelled and he saw Sam as a younger version of himself. If Sam could toughen up, he'd be spared the misery he himself had suffered. Unfortunately, it was his critical comments and calloused actions towards Sam that kept Dean from liking the man and Dean figured it was for those same reasons that his dad limited the number of times he and Sam encountered the huntsman as they were growing up.

Still, Dean had to give the hunter some credit. He was loyal to a fault, someone John always counted on and trusted with his life. For that reason and the fact that he had really come through for them on the sharpshooter, basically saving Sam's life, Dean welcomed his presence now. Dean would forever be grateful for the man's warning and faithfulness and he was the first to admit, that, when the chips were down, the guy was one person you wanted to have on your side.

Dean hoped Sam would be comfortable with the brazen man's visit and hoped Joshua would restrain himself from making derogatory comments about his little brother while he was here. Sam was older now, more comfortable with who he is and he could usually handle anything Joshua could throw his way, but in his present condition, he was vulnerable. Dean hoped the outspoken hunter would guard his tongue and was prepared to take issue with the man if he didn't.

oooOOOooo

"Finally decided there's no place like home, did you?" the impressive, six foot five man added joining in on the little movie theme.

Dean tried to sit up, but his newly repaired shoulder suggested otherwise. He quickly fell back surrendering to the pain. "I think I liked it better in Oz," Dean complained.

Feeling embarrassed to be lying on the bed with the two hunters hovering over him, he resorted to humor. "Least the characters lurking there weren't so…."

"Watch yourself, kiddo," Bobby threatened. "I still have the bullet you had in your shoulder, dumb ass. I'll stick it back in!"

"What are you threatening me for? I'm an injured man! I could have died, you know," Dean declared hoping to squeeze a bit of sympathy out of the dear family friend. He ended up squeezing a lot more out than he had planned.

The casual mention of Dean's near death triggered something in Bobby, and the past three days of emotions finally caught up with the fatherly huntsman. To the surprise of all, including himself, he erupted in a brilliant display of worry, fear, and anger.

"I'll tell you why I'm threatening you! Cuz you lied, damn it! 'M'okay,' Bobby muttered in a sing song-y way, mocking Dean's words. "_Okay_ my ass! You damn well killed yourself! The "no problem" bullet was lodged deep in your "I'm fine" shoulder after bouncing off the bone. I freakin had to be a surgeon to get it out! You lost more than two pints of blood between the wound, Sam's surgery, and your own. How the hell you did all that you did with a bullet lodged in your damn shoulder and bleeding like you were, is beyond me, but I swear, you ever do anything stupid like that again, I'll kill you myself!"

Dean just watched in shock and amazement as the normally subdued hunter had his momentary break down. He realized it was because the guy cared so much and was unable to express it any other way. His heart went out to the guy. He'd given all he had, even to his breaking point, to pull him and Sam back from the brink.

Dean felt like he should apologize, hell he even wanted to, but found that he couldn't. Although he felt sorry for all he and Sam had put the guy through, he also had no regrets about what he had done, either. He would lay down his life for Sam again without reservation and, as painful as that might be for Bobby, he would have to learn to accept that. It was who he was and what he did, what he always would do, and the hunter should expect nothing less.

Being unsure of where to go from there, Dean assumed his normal, wise cracking demeanor, effectually translating the meaning of the hunter's outburst.

"Aw, didn't know ya cared so much about me, Bobby," Dean teased.

"I didn't say I cared about you." Bobby shifted nervously, not wanting his feelings out in the open, in front of Joshua, like that. "S'just, if I wanted to be a surgeon or a mortician, I wouldn't have gone into auto mechanics!"

Joshua just stood there taking all of it in. "You guys have been spending way too much time together. S'like listening to an old married couple argue."

The two men turned to the single hunter and hissed in unison. "How the hell would you know?!"

"I had a mom and dad once," he declared defensively. "And let me tell you, they were way better looking than the two of you," he added glibly.

Dean and Bobby both shook their heads. Joshua was clearly better than either of them at come backs and neither one wanted to compete.

"See what I have to put up with," a smooth, but sleepy voice softly offered to Joshua from the other side of the room.

Three heads quickly turned their attentions to the youngest Winchester. Bobby stepped back to allow the brothers to see one another.

Sam smiled ear to ear as he took in his brother's equally sappy smile.

"Dean"

Dean was thrilled to hear Sam's voice without all the pain and shivering laced into it. He could tell just by looking at Sam's eyes that the fever was gone. His little brother had won his battle. _Way to go, Sammy_.

"In the flesh, Sammy. What little of it I have left thanks to the community butcher here," he added sarcastically as his shoulder once again painfully throbbed.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "You're welcome!" he gruffed out and headed to the kitchen to grab the boys some food and drinks.

Joshua stood before the brothers shaking his head.

"What?" Dean questioned.

"Nothing," Joshua flatly replied as he headed towards the door.

"You headin out?" Sam questioned after reading the hunter's body language.

Dean could tell by Sam's tone that he wasn't too upset to see the man go.

"In a bit," Joshua answered as he glanced back over to Dean who was looking surprised. He offered an explanation for his hasty retreat. "Got a job I need to take care of a few hours from here. Me and Bobby are gonna talk and then I'll be heading out."

Dean looked curiously at the seasoned hunter. Of course he was eager to hear any news on the supernatural front, having been removed from it for over eight weeks, but he was more curious about what the two huntsmen were going to talk about. While Bobby respected Joshua for his expertise in hunting, Dean knew he didn't care for the man's approach to things and that the two could rarely talk about anything without getting into a disagreement of some sort. Bobby could always hold his own, but Dean always felt a bit protective of him.

Joshua hadn't been referring to anything supernatural, but felt he'd better come up with some kind of explanation before Dean began to get suspicious.

"Something's been eating the town's people," he lied in a joking kind of way.

Joshua's intonation and speech pattern suggested he was a bit ill at ease with his explanation and Dean picked up on it right away.

"Need any help?" Dean kidded back eyeing the slightly flustered hunter.

Joshua, just like his dad, always gave the impression he had things under control. But at the moment, Joshua was anything but controlled. Dean was beginning to wonder if the reason for his visit was purely social or whether something else was going on.

"I was hoping to kill the thing, not feed it," Joshua teased back trying to keep up the façade as he looked at the sorry lot in front of him.

"Well, Sammy here could be the bait. I can be your back-up," Dean playfully suggested, once again trying to feel the guy out. He wanted to see the hunter's reaction.

"Gee, thanks," Sam said disgustedly, unaware of his older brother's intentions and the calculating conversation that was taking place around him. He knew Dean was aware of his feelings about Joshua and he appreciated that Dean was making the guy's conversation easier to handle by bathing it in humor, even if it was at his expense.

Joshua laughed, but didn't tip his hand. "Tell you what, next time I need some assistance, I'll be sure _not _to call you guys."

"S'harsh," Dean joked pretending to be wounded. "Really, harsh."

"You boys take care, ya hear? I got better things to do with my time than stand around looking at sick people all day, you know."

"I'm not sick. Sammy, you sick?" Dean quipped hiding his disappoint. He realized he'd lost his window of opportunity to discern Joshua's intentions.

"Nope, not me." Sam announced playing along.

Both Winchesters smiled in unison.

"Coulda fooled me," Joshua said smugly as he looked at the two goofy smiles of the brothers.

Joshua smiled and headed towards the hallway. Goodbyes were not his thing and it was obvious he had a lot on his mind.

"Thanks, Joshua," Sam uttered politely.

Dean nodded in agreement, not really knowing exactly what the guy had done, but figuring he had helped them out in discerning the danger of the sharpshooter and maybe even assisted Bobby with bringing him and Sam back from the brink.

"You know where to find me, if ya need me," he called back as he walked down the hallway.

Dean sat in silence, trying to figure out if there had been a hidden agenda in the conversation that had just taken place. Something felt off, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was.

Dean turned back to Sam to see if he had picked up on anything. His little brother just sat staring out into the hallway.

"You okay?" the older sibling questioned when Sam remained quiet long after Joshua had left.

"Yeah, you?" Sam softly volleyed back.

"He didn't say anything that, um, that bothered you, did he?" Dean questioned feeling somewhat protective, though not quite sure what he needed to protect Sam from.

"No, not really," Sam answered softly.

"Not really as in, he didn't say anything or not really as in, he said something, but you're not really bothered by it."

"It wasn't so much that he said anything. It was more.."

"More what?" Dean questioned when Sam hesitated.

"More what he didn't say."

Dean turned on his side so he could look his brother in the eyes. Sam remained looking straight ahead.

Dean had to press on as he knew something was troubling his little brother. "And what was that?"

"I don't know. I guess I think it's a little weird with all that happened with the hunters and the sharpshooter, that he didn't mention any of it at all."

Dean nodded in agreement. He thought that was weird as well, but figured it had been discussed while he was sleeping.

Sam began rubbing his fingers along the bedspread tracing the lines that ran from the top to the bottom.

"What?" Dean questioned knowing it was something Sam did when he was upset about something.

Sam remained silent, not really sure he wanted to open his soul to his brother at the moment.

"What, Sammy?" Dean coaxed concerned about what his brother was hesitating to say.

"I felt like he was looking at me…" Sam softly explained, clearly uncomfortable about saying more.

"Like how?"

Sam didn't answer. Dean's protective mode kicked in. He wanted to know if he was gonna need to take issue with the huntsman before he left.

"Like how, Sam?" Dean asked more like a parent demanding an explanation.

"Sort of like the other hunters looked at me back at the roadhouse. Like I'm an oddity, some kind of freak," Sam explained as he looked up at Dean with sad eyes longing for him to say differently.

Dean smiled and shook his head. He couldn't believe Sam had left the door wide open for him like that, hell, he'd basically removed the damn thing from its hinges and tossed it into the trash. Sam sure was an oddity, between his love of libraries and books and computer technology, but not in the way he was thinking. Once again he was tempted to give the kid heck, but for some reason, when he looked at Sam's down cast face, he just couldn't do it.

"Guess in a way, I am," Sam softly concluded when his brother made no response.

"No, Sam, no," Dean laughed when he realized Sam had misunderstood his silence. " You have your quirks, sure, but so do I and so does Joshua. You know how he is. Everyone is an oddity to him. He keeps to himself, always has. He was probably just checking you out to see if you were alright. You've been through hell, man. I find myself lookin at ya a lot lately. To see if you're okay," he clarified. "You gotta admit, you aren't looking your best, kiddo."

"Maybe"

"Sam, he wouldn't have helped us or come here if he felt that way. He was here to help, to check up on us. Let it go at that."

Sam nodded, though he was unsure if it was as simple as Dean was suggesting.

"Seriously, Sam. He's got his issues. Don't turn them into yours. Besides, I'm too cool to be hanging around with an oddity and I'm hanging around with you, aren't I?"

Sam snorted. "You're stuck in bed. You have no choice."

"I could get a private room in this joint if I wanted to," Dean teased playfully.

Sam nodded. He had a point, that is if this place even had another bedroom. Sam hadn't been up to exploring it yet.

"So how's the arm?" Dean questioned changing the subject. He wanted to know how his little brother's arm was, as well as how he was feeling about it.

"Fine. Your shoulder?" Sam asked changing the discussion to Dean's health which was what he was most concerned about.

"Fine," Dean echoed somewhat disappointed. He had hoped to get more out of Sam than a fine. He decided to let it go for the moment and began fiddling with his IV to pull it out.

"Might want to wait for Bobby. Not sure he'd like ya taking it out yet," Sam cautioned with a smile. "He's been a bit controlling since you passed out."

"Yeah? You been letting him boss you around, Sammy?"

"Let's just say he's been a little stressed and I didn't want to aggravate him. You know how he can get."

Dean laughed remembering how "stressed" Bobby was once when he had written Sammy's name with his jackknife on the side of Bobby's new car when he was six. The guy's face literally went through a range of colors from red to purple to blue before he could even utter a word to the two brothers he was watching over.

"Yeah, well, guess he has a right to be a little stressed. It's been one hell of a week," Dean admitted.

Bobby entered the room with a tray full of soup, sandwiches and milk. "Who the hell is stressed?" he asked as he presented the boys with their food. He frowned when he saw Dean had removed his IV.

"Gee, this looks great! Thanks Martha," Dean teased as Bobby set the food on the nightstand beside him.

"It's Ms. Stewart to you," he hissed and smiled warmly over to Sam.

Dean looked over to his brother, surprised to see Bobby giving half of his sandwich to Sam.

"'S'he eating now?" Dean questioned finding it difficult to allow his brother to be eating anything that might cause him trouble.

Sam nodded thrilled that Bobby had allowed him to get off of baby food. He knew if Dean had been in charge, he'd have been eating the stuff for at least another month.

"Man! I was gonna make him bargain for real food. You know? Several days of polishing my car, washing my laundry…..Hey, can he do dishes yet?"

"No! Now you leave him alone," Bobby protectively spat. " He's still got a ways to go and you're not gonna make him bargain for your help."

Sam smiled, pleased as all get out that he had an ally in Bobby. He pointed to the older hunter and nodded his head making it clear to Dean that if his older brother messed with him, he was messing with Bobby.

"Geez, what is this? I close my eyes for a minute and the whole damn world turns on me."

"The world's always been turning on you, you were just too dizzy to notice. Now quit foolin around and eat. You boys need to get some food in ya and some rest."

Dean and Sam nodded in agreement, ate their lunches, and settled down beneath their covers.

Sam stared at the ceiling somewhat disappointed it was a smooth ceiling instead of a textured one. There were no constellations or water spots to hold his attention.

Dean stared at the ceiling as well, but his eyes were unseeing, his mind was too deep in thought. He could hear the soft voices of Bobby and Joshua in the other room, but couldn't make out their conversation. It was more business like in nature than just a friendly conversation, and it was impossible to tell the content.

After a while, he noticed his little brother was still awake and he looked over at Sam and spoke.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah"

"Are you really okay? I mean, like okay physically and okay, you know, the other way too?"

Sam laughed in a breathless kind of way.

"Not sure how to answer that question, Dean. Wouldn't know where to begin."

"Give it your best shot," Dean coached wanting to know how his little brother was feeling about everything and specifically about his arm.

Sam hesitated.

"C'mon, let's girl talk," Dean teased. "Give me all the boring little details!" He put on a girlish smile and looked eagerly at Sam to begin.

"You're impossible, you know that!"

Dean nodded in agreement and then raised his eyebrows beckoning for his sibling to begin.

"You're serious?"

Dean continued to wait expectantly.

"Okay, fine...but don't accuse me of whining about any of it. I'm just gonna tell it like it is."

Dean nodded.

"Let's see, I have the body of a infant, unable to even lift my freakin head up for more than a few seconds…" Sam put out as the first and most obvious problem he was having.

"Yeah, well, that sucks, but we'll work on that. Anything else?" Dean asked seemingly unaffected by his brother's situation. It wasn't really that he was apathetic; it was just that he was eager to talk with Sam about his arm and he had already worked out his plan for Sam's strength training to commence upon his return to good health.

Sam raised his eyebrows, amazed at his brother's casual dismissal of his pretty significant problem.

"You call that girl talking, Dean? Girl talking's when a concern is laid out and you spend some time working through it with someone, not 'aw, too bad...now let's move on!'" Sam stated amazed at how Dean could be so disconnected from the female species.

Dean didn't want to admit that he didn't realize women worked that way. He tucked the little helpful tidbit in his mind. It could be useful the next time a girl like Lindsey showed up. Feeling like a rebutal was in order after his little brother had put him in his place, Dean quickly responded.

"Yeah, well, I call it girl talking...You're a girl and you're talking, aren't ya Sammy?" Dean teased amazed that Sam had left himself wide open for that.

"You're a jerk...bitch, there I said it for you!" Sam quickly filled in beating his brother to the punch line.

"Can we move along," Dean mumbled disappointed he couldn't get his punch line in. "Where were we? Oh yeah,...You feel like a baby, oops, I mean an infant, no I guess it was that you are weak and..."

"Shut up!"

"I'm just repeating what you said!," Dean declared defensively. His teasing smile told otherwise.

Sam shook his head. His brother was impossible.

"So?" Dean questioned.

"Okay," Sam stated knowing his brother had a hidden purpose in his inquiry just by the look on his face. He decided to go for it anyways and hoped he could throw whatever Dean's agenda was, back in his face.

"My chest hurts like hell when I breathe in and out cuz of my cracked ribs." Sam eyed Dean suspiciously, waiting for his comeback.

Dean nodded. "S'gotta be a bitch," he acknowledged again. "Anything else?"

Sam was surprised his older brother actually offered a bit of sympathy, though he had to laugh at his brother's eagerness to move on, as if weakness and broken ribs weren't enough. His brother just didn't get the whole idea of talking about it.

Dean detected Sam's reaction. "Oh, that's right. I'm sooooooo sorry about your pain, Samantha. You poor dear. I hope you are feeling so much better soon," Dean sarcastically bellowed melodramatically. "S'at better?" he quipped with a playful smile.

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head half amused, but mostly annoyed. He knew how to put his mocking, wise ass big brother in his place and he whipped out a trump card that he knew would sober his abnoxious sibling.

"I still have mild withdrawal symptoms," Sam offered certain it would grab his mocking, nonchalant brother's attention.

Dean's playful demeanor suddenly changed. "Shit, Sammy. I didn't realize," the older sibling worriedly replied.

Sam actually felt badly for bringing it up when he saw his brother's response.

"I said _mild,_ Dean," Sam explained hoping to put his brother's mind at ease. "Mostly tremors and they are very few and far between these days. Once in a while, I still get faint, but since I'm not goin anywhere anytime soon, you don't have to worry about me falling and hurting myself."

Dean nodded clearly upset. He knew Sam was weak and had cracked ribs, but somehow he considered both fixable over time. The memory of his little brother suffering so painfully from withdrawal was something he would never get over and he found it intolerable to know the kid was still experiencing relapses. On top of that, the fact that Sam's arm hadn't even been mentioned yet was beginning to weigh heavy on his heart. He was concerned that his little brother wasn't dealing with his latest injury and was starting to worry about the rammifications of that.

"So's that everything?" he asked sadly, trying one last time to see if the topic of Sam's arm would come out.

Sam hesitated, not wanting to upset Dean with his latest problem and also fearing that if he said it out loud, that maybe, somehow, it would make it real. Right now, Dean didn't know, and so he could pretend it wasn't happening.

He began tracing the swirling stripes on his bedspread and Dean knew what was on his mind.

"Sam?"

"I can't……"Sam choked, unable to finish his sentence.

"Can't what, little brother?" Dean gently coaxed willing his brother to open up to him.

Sam paused, licked his lips, and dared to make his secret known, to lay it before his brother thus validating it to be real.

"My arm," Sam whispered as he glanced down and quickly away as if the mass of flesh and bone was detestable to him. "I can't really feel my arm, Dean," he finally whispered out with a heavy sigh. Sam waited in dreaded fear for Dean's reaction.

Dean closed his eyes and nodded, relieved Sam had voiced it, that it was out where the brothers could now deal with it.

Sam noticed Dean was subdued, not panicking, not denying it or accusing Sam of being mistaken, not promising that it would get better soon. He was just quiet.

"You knew, didn't you?" Sam finally figured out, knowing it was the only explanation for his brother's unusual reaction.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Dean softly admitted.

"How?" Sam questioned curiously.

"Bobby," Dean gently explained as he looked at his brother's eyes to determine how he was handling things.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I knew you'd talk when you were ready," he answered gently.

"Not much to talk about," Sam replied despondently.

Dean slipped out from under his covers and took a seat on the bed beside his little brother.

Sam just looked into his brother's face as the corners of his eyes prickled, threatening tears.

"I'm hosed," he whispered as a defeated expression overshadowed his face.

Dean gently lifted Sam's damaged arm up with his right hand and placed it carefully in his left .

Sam looked down at his hand, as it lay in his brother's, and back up at Dean. He could feel the pressure of his brother's hand beneath his, but couldn't feel its warmth.

The older sibling then put his right hand tenderly on top. Sam's numb hand and fingers lay sandwiched between his brother's. Dean just sat there and held his hand. His eyes were loving, calm and reassuring and for a second Sam could almost swear he could feel the warmth of Dean's heart through his touch.

The gesture brought Sam to tears. Dean wasn't afraid of the gross, numb extension of his body. The placement of his hand in his brother's palm radiated Dean's absolute acceptance of Sam for who he was, as he was, with or without the feeling in his hand. It made no difference to Dean. Sam was Sam, his little brother, his best friend.

Dean smiled at his brother and lifted his hand off of the top of Sam's and nodded, gesturing for Sam to look at his own hand.

Sam looked down upon his hand as tears began to flow. It was no longer the grotesque mass of flesh and bone it had been only moments earlier. It was his hand, a part of him, loved by his brother like the rest of him was.

Dean teared up with his brother. He re-covered the limb, placing his own hand once again on top and gently laid it on the bed beside Sam's hip. He patted his brother on the chest twice and got up to return to his bed. He silently slipped beneath the covers and the two brother's lay in silence for a moment.

Sam finally spoke up.

"Thanks, Dean"

Dean nodded. No thanks was needed, but he responded knowing Sam needed him to. "You're welcome, Sammy."

After another lengthy silence, Dean reinitiated the conversation he had originally begun, wanting to know more about where his brother stood in the emotional part of his existence.

"So, how about the other 'okay'?"

Sam smiled, amused that Dean was willing to continue with the touchy feely stuff.

Dean noticed his brother's smile.

"What?"

"Nothing"

"No, not nothing, What?"

"I just think it's funny"

"What?"

"Nothing?

"Sam!"

"That you're initiating another touchy feely….what do you call it?…emotional crap…. conversation."

"Yeah, well, there's a special on them, but only for today and only for right now, so hurry up about it!"

Sam laughed.

Dean tried to put his hands behind his head indicating he was ready to settle down to a good emotional saga, but neither shoulder would allow his muscles to stretch that far. He finally conceded and laid the annoying limbs on his chest, elbows bent and resting on the bed. He waited in silence for his little brother to continue.

When Sam didn't immediately start up, Dean leaded. "As far as the other okay………"

"Well, now that Gordon's gang is dead, I don't feel scared to death anymore. I think feeling that there was a noose waiting for me somewhere in the future was too much for me before. For some reason, I just couldn't get past it. Not with what Jake and the others did to me. The thought of it happening again…."

Dean nodded, glad the threat had been eliminated as well. "Sam, in time, I pray to god you can't even remember what happened."

"You know what's weird, Dean? Ever since the sharpshooter died and the threat ended, my mind's been able to let bits and pieces of it go. The memory will always be there, I guess, but parts are already starting to fade. I can still hear Jake's voice in my head, but I can't see his face anymore. I can remember the sound of the gun as it was fired into my shoulder, but I can't remember what was said just before it. It's like when the sharpshooter's threat was eliminated and the last hunter of the lynching mob was destroyed, the power it had over me was destroyed along with it."

Dean smiled. "S'good news, Sammy," he whispered. He was pleased, way deep down in his heart, that his brother was healing and starting to put the horrendous event behind him. "I guess you are okay, little brother, or at least you're heading that way," Dean concluded.

"As far as the demon, well, I guess I don't know what to think about that. Sort of lost my worries about it all when I thought you were gonna die. Made me realize I can spend my whole life worrying about what might happen or spend it enjoying what I know is happening right here, right now.

Dean was a bit surprised by his brother's sudden, way too healthy in his opinion, outlook. He wasn't sure it was going to be lasting, but for now he was glad his brother had found some peace.

Sam felt the need to explain further.

"You're my brother, Dean, the only person I can ever count on, the only one who stands beside me no matter what. When I thought you might die, I realized if you did…I'd really have no reason to bother going on. You told me you'd help me find my reason for living, right?"

"I did," Dean confirmed.

"Well, I guess, in a way, I never really needed to look for my reason for living, you know? I had it all along. Just didn't recognize it was you. I'm gonna fight this demon to win so that you can get on with your life, Dean, to free you from having to worry about having to kill me, to lay to rest the pain you feel inside for the deaths of mom and dad that went unavenged, to free you from having to protect me. I'm gonna live to fight for you for a change."

Dean remained speechless. He was glad his brother had found a reason to live, but felt unworthy of his brother's dedication and he was fairly certain he couldn't be Sam's reason for living, not permanently, anyways. Ever since Dad had told him he had to save Sam, he had expected that he would die in doing so and he didn't want his little brother to survive the demon and then give up and die because he had.

"That's great, Sam. I'm honored, I really am. I'd be happy to be that for you until you find someone or something else to live for."

Sam was a little taken back, feeling like Dean wasn't accepting his decision.

"What? You don't want to be my reason right now?" Sam questioned half disbelieving.

"It's not that, dude. It's just, you need to have a reason outside of me."

"Oh, so I can be your reason for going on, but you can't be mine." Sam sarcastically stated trying hard not to feel hurt.

"Sam," Dean stated correctively not wanting his little brother to be hurt. He didn't continue because he wasn't sure what he could say without revealing what he perceived was his destiny.

"You don't think you're gonna make it, do you?" Sam questioned astutely. "You think you're going to, what, die saving me?" he questioned incredulously.

Dean remained silent not knowing what to say.

"No, Dean, no. I won't allow it!" Sam insisted, his voice shaking as he attempted to sit up in bed. His eyes bore down on Dean when he turned his head to look his brother in the eyes and speak to his soul.

"I mean it, Dean!" Sam adamantly stated. "You promised that if you couldn't save me, you'd kill me. You promised! Dying was never a part of that deal for you!"

"Sam! If it's the last thing I do, I swear, I am gonna keep you safe. And, if it comes down to it, little brother, if keepin you safe means I have to die, then so be it. I would rather die trying to save you, than kill you."

Sam wiped his hand across his face as his brother's eyes stared into his soul. Tears welled up and blurred his vision as he realized his brother's resolve on this issue and he dropped back down onto the bed, his head onto the pillow.

Dean also laid back down and the two remained silent for what seemed like an hour. Dean didn't like his little brother being all cooped up in his head alone and finally attempted to restart the conversation.

"You awake?"

Silence

"C'mon, man, I know you're awake. I can tell by your breathing. Hell, I've watched you breath for the past two months."

Silence

"What, so I'm the reason for you to live right now, but you're not gonna talk to me? How does that work?"

Silence

"Okay, fine, Sam. You want to shut me out, I'm not gonna stop you." Dean quieted hoping he might force his brother's hand.

Silence

"Alright. I'll just lay here, in pain, alone, being shut out by my baby brother, but that's okay, if you want it this way, fine."

Silence

"Aw, c'mon Sammy, don't do this! I hate when you run silent and deep. It's…it's…it's unnatural," he declared as he rolled on his side and lifted his head to see his brother's face.

Sam lay still. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed, his breathing was deep and steady.

"Sammy?"

"Tell me you didn't just fall asleep on me, did you? Huh?"

"Son of a Bitch," Dean cursed as he laid himself down on his bed. The kid just fell asleep.

"Conversations are a lot more interesting when you talk to people who are awake," a kindly voice muttered just as Bobby entered the room with a water glass, antibiotics and pain pills. He'd heard Dean talking and surmised the conversation wasn't going well based on his tone. Upon his arrival, he had realized Sam was asleep.

Dean silenced, somewhat embarrassed that the hunter had gotten involved.

"What ever it was about, I'm sure after rest, Sam will be willing to talk about it again. Kid's not good at keeping things in for long," he assured Dean as he handed him the water and the pills.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure we can find even ground on the issue we were discussing, even if Sam is well rested."

Bobby nodded and took a seat beside the discouraged man.

"As long as I've lived, I've rarely seen life offer 'even ground', Dean," Bobby offered gently. "The best paths are usually the ones you have to carve out of solid rock yourself with your own bare hands. You and Sam, you got something special. Most folks are lucky to have one good friend in their lifetime, but to have a best friend in a brother, well, that's just near impossible these days. Life's just too busy to allow for it much anymore and even if it does, pride usually steps in and builds walls. You boys will figure this out, you just wait and see. Either the mountain you're standin in front of isn't as steep as you think, or there's a path that the two of you can carve out together to reach the top."

Dean smiled, warmed by Bobby's wisdom and understanding.

"You know, I don't care what everyone says about you, Bobby. You're alright in my book."

"Gee, thanks, Dean. I think I'm gonna take that as a compliment and please don't spoil it by telling me which book of yours I'm in," he announced as he tapped Dean on his leg and stood up to leave.

"What? You think I'd put you in one of my black books? Dream on old man," Dean offered with a smile as he swallowed his pills and returned the glass.

Bobby snorted. Damn kid got him again.

"Get some rest, wise ass. I don't do windows and I sure as hell don't clean bathrooms, so you boys best be getting on your feet soon."

Dean laughed as he settled in a comfortable sleep position. He looked over to his sleeping brother for a moment and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Seems we always get mountains, little brother, but, I guess, if we climb this one together, we'll eventually reach the top."

Dean closed his eyes, though his mind wandered just a bit before falling to sleep. He didn't know if he and Sam would reach the top of the mountain that lay ahead, but he did realize that they both needed to live in order to do so. His quiet resolve to die along the way would sabotage Sam's ability to reach the top. He drifted off determined to tell Sam he would make it the whole way, side by side, when he woke up.

Tbc

Thank you one and all for your wonderful reviews! As I've said many times before, your encouragement keeps me writing and I am truly grateful for your faithfulness. I only hope I can continue to delight you and be worthy of your praise! Rachelly

**Preview of what's coming up in Chapter 20:**

A little while later, Dean awoke to the sound of heated voices coming from the other room. He could hear the tones, but couldn't make out the words. Whatever the argument was about, Joshua was clearly getting Bobby upset.


	20. Mini Marts and Murder

**Previously on Supernatural Ambush**

"That's great, Sam. I'm honored, I really am. I'd be happy to be your reason for living until you find someone or something else to live for."

"You don't think you're gonna make it, do you?" Sam questioned astutely. "You think you're going to, what, die saving me?" he questioned incredulously.

Dean remained silent not knowing what to say.

"No, Dean, no. I won't allow it!" Sam insisted, his voice shaking as he attempted to sit up in bed. His eyes bore down on Dean when he turned his head to look his brother in the eyes and speak to his soul.

"I mean it, Dean!" Sam adamantly stated. "You promised that if you couldn't save me, you'd kill me. You promised! Dying was never a part of that deal for you!"

"Sam! If it's the last thing I do, I swear, I am gonna keep you safe. And, if it comes down to it, little brother, if keepin you safe means I have to die, then so be it. I would rather die trying to save you, than kill you."

oooOOOooo

(Conversation with Bobby)

oooOOOooo

Dean closed his eyes, though his mind wandered just a bit before falling to sleep. He didn't know if he and Sam would reach the top of the mountain that lay ahead, but he did realize that they both needed to live in order to do so. His quiet resolve to die along the way would sabotage Sam's ability to reach the top. He drifted off determined to tell Sam he would make it the whole way, side by side, when he woke up.

**Chapter 20**

A little while later, Dean awoke to the sound of heated voices coming from the other room. He could hear harsh tones, but couldn't make out the words. Whatever the argument was about, it was intense, and it seemed quite obvious that Joshua was the one getting Bobby riled up.

Dean quickly glanced over at Sam. To his relief, his younger sibling was still sleeping in the bed, unaware of the conflict that was escalating only a few rooms away. He quickly slid out between the covers and into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him so as not to disturb his little brother. He quietly made his way towards the living room trying not to be detected, hoping to get an understanding of what was going on before he arrived.

"Damn it, Bobby! You can't just stick your head in the sand on this one!" Joshua's voice hollered out.

"You sure as hell don't seem to have any _reasonable _solutions to this problem! I say we wait!" Bobby barked back.

"Wait for what? What problem?" Dean's firm voice interjected as he reached the living room.

Both hunters turned around and froze. Their expressions were like that of two deer caught in the headlights of a car just before they were about to be hit.

"What problem!" Dean's tone was adamant, almost as if he were demanding an explanation. He had a feeling, based on Bobby's degree of distress, that it had something to do with he and Sam.

Bobby, wiped his hand across his scruffy beard, and turned away. He was angry with Joshua for involving Dean. His protective side felt it was too soon to be throwing the thousand pound weight Joshua was heaving onto the barely recovered kid.

Dean looked at Joshua, who remained speechless, and then back to Bobby.

"Damn it, somebody tell me what's goin on!" he demanded.

Joshua finally spoke up. Bobby cursed as soon as the huntsman opened his mouth.

"Hunters are asking questions, Dean. About the roadhouse, the hospital, hell, even the motel. They know something's going on and they aren't buying a robbery," Joshua stated flatly.

Dean shifted nervously. "Let them ask. They won't find out anything. Gordon and his sick gang are dead!"

"S'not that simple," Joshua corrected. "Derek survived the roadhouse, remember? He's in jail and he's had two visitors besides me, hunters who came to see him."

Bobby shook his head and looked to see how Dean was handling the news.

"You think he said anything? About Sam, I mean?" Dean asked anxiously.

Joshua nodded. "Yes."

"Damn," Dean cursed. "Well, even if he did, that doesn't mean they'll believe what he said," Dean reasoned trying to still hold out hope that things were going to be okay for his little brother.

"It doesn't matter if they believe him or not," Joshua refuted, disregarding Dean's reasoning. "All they need to know is that you and your brother killed fourteen hunters. That's not gonna sit well with the hunting community. They're likely to think you've been deliberately taking hunters out."

"That's bullshit!" Dean hissed. "Why the hell would we be doing that?!"

"You and I know it's bullshit, Dean, but I don't think this community's gonna sit down and hold an inquiry so's they can better understand things from our perspectives, if you get my drift. With you killing off so many, they're more likely to believe that Jake and his damn hit squad were right about your brother. Gives more weight to Derek's rantings, too."

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean cursed. He wiped his hand across his face and took a deep breath. "You think they're gonna start comin after Sam?"

"You and Sam," Joshua clarified.

Bobby shifted nervously. He watched Dean carefully and was ready to end the conversation if he needed to.

"I don't give a damn what they try to do to me, but they sure as hell aren't gonna get their hands on my little brother," Dean growled out in anger while fear shook him inside.

Joshua nodded, acknowledging Dean's resolve, feeling the same protectiveness for both the Winchester boys.

"So what are we gonna do?" Dean asked determined not to let this thing get any where near being a problem for Sam.

"Bobby here wants to stick his head in the sand and pretend it isn't happening," Joshua spat disgustedly.

"That's not what I said!" Bobby hissed defensively. He quickly turned to Dean. "I said we needed to give you boys time to recover a bit before we hit you with all of this crap," he explained wanting Dean to understand that he would never deliberately ignore a danger to he or Sam. He just felt to dump it on the boys when they were incapable of doing anything about it in their current conditions was heartless.

Dean nodded appreciative of Bobby's concern and protection.

"We'll I'm hit, so let's deal with this," Dean announced wanting to take the problem head on. "What do we do?"

"You and Sam lay low and get well," Bobby declared feeling the need to state the obvious.

"I've already talked with Greg, one of Derek's visitors," Joshua began. "Luckily, he's a decent guy, reasonable, somewhat of a friend. Told him Jake and the gang had a personal grudge against John and were holding you and Sam responsible. Said you boys had to take out the other hunters in self defense."

"He buy it?" Dean questioned anxiously.

"Hard not to. John did tend to rub people the wrong way you know," Joshua clarified.

The two listening hunters nodded while Joshua continued.

"Said it was much more believable than thinking one of John's boys was helping a demon. Also said Derek doesn't hold much credibility in the hunting community. Guys a bit over the top, apparently."

"What about the other guy that visited Derek?" Dean questioned now that Greg seemed of no concern.

"Jim Brecken" Joshua clarified.

"Whatever"

"He's a problem," Joshua flatly announced.

Dean shifted nervously. "You know him?"

"No, not personally, but I know of him. He's a bastard, Dean. Really gets into conspiracy stuff and would love to sink his teeth into this demon army scenario."

Dean looked horrified at Joshua. First because Sam might be in danger again and secondly that Joshua knew about the whole demon soldiers angle.

Joshua looked at Dean with a surprised expression on his weathered face."What? You didn't think I knew?"

Dean just stood there with his eyes dark unsure of what to say.

"I went to the jail and talked with Derek, Dean, when I was looking for the sharpshooter. He filled me in on the whole thing. That's when I checked to see if he'd had any visitors, specifically hunters, to tell his story to."

Dean looked anxiously at Bobby and back to Joshua. Sam was right. Joshua had been looking at him differently and if he'd been looking at him like Jake and the others had, then that would mean….

"Dean, you have nothing to fear from me. I was trying to help your father piece things together in California before he headed your way to connect with you. Whatever the demon has planned, I know you and your brother won't play along and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to keep it that way. I owe your father that much."

Dean eyed the hunter suspiciously. The man's tone, intonation, and body language all supported the statement that he had just declared. He could detect no façade or hidden agenda. He licked his lips and nodded, grateful for the loyalty Joshua was expressing to his father and extending to him and Sam. He only hoped that his faith in the man wasn't misplaced.

"You got friends, Dean. You and Sam are not alone, son," Bobby added with a warm smile reminding the young Winchester he was also taking a stand with him.

Dean nodded again.

"So what do we do about the conspiracy guy?"

"Brecken"

"Brecken," Dean echoed.

"I'm gonna go track him down. See what he believed and who, if anyone, he's been talking to."

"You think he's passing this along?"Dean asked worriedly as he feared another lynching mob could be forming as they spoke.

"Most hunters prefer to work alone. But, after what happened to Jo and Ellen, he might find some sympathetic supporters."

"What! You think anyone would think that _we _hurt Jo and Ellen?!!" Dean exclaimed loudly.

"I'm saying a lot of hunters died and so did the girls. Even if hunters give you and Sam the benefit of the doubt about it being about your dad, they aren't gonna buy Jo and Ellen's deaths for that reason."

"Why not?" Bobby asked. "Ellen blamed John for Harvelle's death. It's not that big a stretch to think maybe she was in on it too."

Dean shot a disapproving glance at Bobby.

"Dean, I'm not saying she was," Bobby clarified. "I'm saying some might accept her involvement and not blame you and Sam."

"No, I don't want Ellen or Jo to be associated with Jake's gang. I owe them that much. We'll have to think of something else."

"Dean, Jo and Ellen are dead. Sam's not," Joshua stated bluntly. "This isn't something you can take a moral high ground on. If you want to protect your brother, Jo and Ellen were in on it. It's the only way," Joshua stated adamantly.

Dean wiped his hand across his face and then through his hair. He felt an overwhelming need to sit down, as if his strength had once again poured out of him onto the floor. He wasn't quite sure if it was his injury or the scared as hell feeling that had been building in his chest over the past fifteen minutes, but something had literally sapped all his energy from him.

Bobby recognized his expression and brought the young hunter a chair. Dean obliged and the three sat down.

Moments later, Dean continued.

"So, you're gonna go find Brecken and follow the trail out from there."

Joshua nodded. "Anyone he's talked to will be added to my list."

"What if he hasn't talked to anyone?"Dean asked wanting to get a feel for what the rough hunter might be thinking.

"I'll see what he believes and if he's a threat, I'll make sure he doesn't get a chance to talk," Joshua stated flatly.

Dean immediately jumped in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are we talking threatening the guy or are you saying…"

"I'll deal with it as it comes," Joshua stated vaguely in his 'got things under control' kind of way. "You'll just have to trust me on that." He didn't want Dean to be involved with exactly what that might mean. As far as he was concerned, if Brecken was gonna hunt to kill the Winchester boys, the guy was making himself a target.

Dean would do anything to protect Sam, risk anything, sacrifice anything, but condoning murder by someone as seemingly reckless as Joshua was not something he was willing to do.

"Joshua, Sam and me, we don't…"

"Don't what, Dean? Don't want to live!" the huntsman growled angrily. " Listen to me! These are hunters! They're not gonna walk up to you on the street, ask if you've been helping a demon, and apologize for their mistake after you tell them that you haven't. They'll do their research and, depending on who they talk to, reach a decision. If they talk to Derek or Brecken and conclude that your brother is evil, they'll hunt his supernatural ass down! You want to be out at the Mini Mart with Sam, hear a gun shot and watch your brother's head explode all over the potato chip aisle?!"

"You son of a bitch!" Dean hollered out as he rose to take on the brazen hunter. The hunter's cruel words had stabbed him in his heart and his whole body shook with emotion.

"Josh!" Bobby hollered out, shocked by the hunter's bluntness. He rose and stood protectively in front of Dean, facing the outrageous man who had crossed the line. His body tensed to hold the angered Winchester back behind him for his own good.

Dean bumped up against Bobby's back and struggled to get past him, but Bobby's stance was firm and the infuriated young hunter lacked the strength to overpower him. Eventually, he yielded to the man's determined stature.

Once sure Dean was not about to confront Joshua and possibly get himself hurt in the process, Bobby moved threateningly in the calloused hunter's direction.

Joshua stood, held his hands up and out indicating he was not gonna fight the man, and frowned. He hadn't meant to upset the kid, just wanted Dean to understand. There was no soft shoe-ing this one. He might have to hit, and hit hard, and the kid needed to understand that. Out of respect for Bobby and concern for Dean, he softened his tone and continued.

"Now I know you don't want that, Dean. So, you gotta trust me to do the right thing. I'll make sure there's no other alternative, but if it comes down to it, I'll do what I have to and I'll tell you something, John would approve."

Upon the mention of John's name, Bobby turned to check on the eldest Winchester behind him.

Dean glared at Joshua, not liking his dad's name being used against him to support the hunter's position. His head was pounding and his heart was racing and he felt like he was about to fall over. He couldn't erase the image of Sam being shot to death in a Mini Mart, his little brother's blood and brains splattering out all over the place. His stomach sickened and he felt like he was about to throw up.

Bobby saw Dean's face going pale and moved in supportively.

"You all right, son?"

Dean would have nodded, but the movement would have made his stomach empty its contents right there. He just stood still and tried to calm his stomach and nerves down.

"Damn it, Joshua. I told you!" Bobby hissed, infuriated at the hunter's insistence to push against his recommendations.

"I'm okay, just give me a minute," Dean managed to utter as he struggled to regain his composure.

Bobby put his hand on Dean's shoulder and attempted to take a look at his wound. He wanted to be sure that the young hunter's wound was not oozing when he collided with his back or in reaction to his distress.

Dean had already felt the wetness on his shoulder when the conversation had gotten heated earlier and he moved his shoulder away where Bobby couldn't evaluate it.

Bobby frowned at the young man's stubbornness. "Let's get you laying down," Bobby suggested to Dean as he threw an angry look in Joshua's direction.

"No, let's finish this," Dean insisted.

Joshua was impressed at Dean's stamina and resolve. He truly did take after his father, just as John had said.

"What's there to finish?' Bobby questioned wanting Joshua to leave and the conversation to be over and done with. It wasn't that he didn't like the hunter, although in the last few minutes he was beginning to think that he didn't, it was that the insolent man was not considering the damage he was causing in the present, in his drive to prevent future catastrophes.

"Derek," Dean stated flatly.

"Same story. You got a leaky dike, you have to plug it up," Joshua unequivocally announced.

"no-o-o"

The whispered word came out and floated into the room just before it was cut short by the sound of something smacking the hard, unforgiving floor.

All three heads turned when they heard the voiceless cry, followed by the thump, just inside the hallway. All three hunters felt the sting of adrenaline as it flooded their veins and assaulted the very fibers of their beings.

Dean was the first to jump up and the sight before him was both heartbreaking and terrifying at the same time.

Sam was lying motionless, face down in a heap on the scantly carpeted floor. His newly stitched arm was buried somewhere beneath him, his casted arm was angled out to the side.

Dean ran over and threw himself on the floor beside his brother.

"Jeezus, Sammy," Dean whispered as his hand ghosted over Sam's frame trying to figure out if moving his little brother would cause him any harm. It was impossible to know, for sure, the cause of his collapse…weakness, a relapse, or something else, but based on the sound of his fall and the fact that his newly damaged arm was crushed beneath his cracked ribs, Dean wanted desperately to assess his condition to be sure he was okay, so he decided to move him. He placed one hand on the back of Sam's neck to support his head and slid his other under his brother, palm flat up against his upper chest. As gently as he could, he slowly began to roll his brother over.

Bobby came up behind Dean and helped lay Sam out the rest of the way repositioning his legs straight along the wall.

Dean immediately felt for Sam's chest to be sure that he was breathing okay. The steady rise and fall of his little brother's emaciated ribcage brought tremendous relief.

"Sammy?" Dean called out again trying to arouse his limp sibling.

Sam didn't respond to his brother's anxious cry.

Bobby checked Sam's pulse while Joshua stood by, unable to do anything due to the confined space.

"Bobby?" Dean questioned nervously.

"Strong and steady," he finally announced. "I think he just passed out."

Blood began flowing from Sam's nose, a result of its abrupt impact with the floor.

"Aw, no," Dean whispered pained to see his brother bleeding again. As he moved to put pressure on the bridge of Sam's nose to stop the bleeding, he noticed a suspicious red spot just under the edge of Sam's bangs. He reached up and brushed them aside revealing a lump that had been quickly forming beneath them on his already damaged forehead. Dean ran his fingers gently across it to determine the severety of its threat. It was clearly large enough to have caused his brother's unconscious state. "Damn it!" he cursed as he dropped his head in despair.

"Let's get him to bed," Bobby suggested softly.

Dean nodded saddly and began lifting his brother's shoulders. His wound screamed out in pain and his arm gave out.

"You stand back, Joshua and I will get him," Bobby directed when he saw Dean was unable to assist his brother.

Knowing he didn't have the strength to carry his brother safely, he hesitatingly stepped back and let Joshua in. It took everything he had to let the man touch his brother. His anger still burned against him and his atrocious description of Sam's death.

The two men carried the youngest Winchester back to his bed and laid him gently down.

Dean immediately moved in and sat beside his unconscious brother. He pulled Sam's injured arm gently into his lap to examine it, to determine if the fall had damaged the already fragile limb. Much to his relief, there were no visible signs of bleeding. It looked like the stitches had managed to hold. Only time would tell if the internal ones had faired as well.

Bobby began to check Sam's vitals. Joshua went out to the kitchen to grab some ice.

Dean looked over to Bobby when Joshua stepped out. "You think he heard anything?" he questioned worriedly.

The family friend frowned. "God, I hope not, Dean. The kid has enough to deal with without worrying about all that."

"How's his pressure?"

"Looks good," Bobby reported.

Dean nodded and licked his lips. He gently called his brother's name, attempting to awaken him.

"Sammy?" Dean softly called as he gently wiped the blood off his brother's lip with his thumb before it could drip into his partially open mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose hoping to stop the bleeding.

"Sam!" he stated more firmly using his 'open your eyes, you're scaring the shit out of me' voice.

Still his younger brother did not respond.

"C'mon, Sammy. Wake up, little brother," Dean attempted to coach.

"Temperature's 99.2, respirations are good," Bobby finished.

Still, Sam remained out.

"Check his pupils, will ya?" Dean asked.

"Sure," Bobby agreeably complied. He whipped out his pocket flashlight.

Dean released his hold on Sam's nose and lifted his eyelid. Bobby quickly assessed. Then they did the second.

"Both are equal and reacting to the light," Bobby assured the worried sibling.

Joshua brought in a towel filled with ice. Bobby held it on Sam's forehead, amazed at how large a goose egg had already formed there.

"Is the kid okay?" Joshua asked in his deep voice.

Bobby nodded his head. _No thanks to you, you asshole_ he hissed in his mind.

Dean ignored Joshua's question and went back to pinching off the bridge of Sam's nose.

"What the hell was he thinking? Getting out of bed and walking around by himself," Dean asked incredulously.

"Probably was looking for you," Bobby explained with a smile on his face. "He does that you know."

Dean nodded almost proudly. He liked being Sam's big brother and the idea that his little brother still looked up to him even though the kid was taller than he was made him smile.

"S'like a puppy lookin for his master," Bobby dared to tease a little more trying hard to lighten up the intensity of the moment.

"Pfffhhhh," Dean laughed. "Don't think Sam would look at it that way, though he's got the puppy dog eyes to prove it."

"Think he heard us?" Joshua asked with concern, not interested in the jesting that was taking place before him. He was feeling a bit guilty about the way things had turned out, never having intended to hurt either of the boys he was trying to protect.

"Probably, you dumb ass," Bobby hissed finally releasing the anger that was burning inside of him that he had been trying to hold in for Dean's sake. "I told you we should have given the boys more time before dumping this mess on them!"

"Time is the one thing these boys don't have and sticking their heads in the sand isn't gonna buy them any more!" the over sized man argued back.

Sam began to stir as the loudness of their voices began to pull him back to awareness.

"Shhhh! Enough!" Dean corrected. "Take it outside!" he protectively ordered.

Both hunters quieted, neither wanted to leave until they were sure Sam was alright.

"Sammy?"

Sam startled awake and started choking when the blood that had collected in the back of his throat from his draining nose got suddenly sucked into his trachea. His eyes squeezed shut, his hands fisted the blankets, and blood sprayed out from his mouth when he coughed.

"Sam!" Dean cried out in horror when he saw the blood. He looked frantically at Bobby. "Think he broke a rib when he fell?! Punctured his lung?" he shouted fearfully as his hands once again ghosted over his brother's frame trying desperately to figure out how to help him.

Sam coughed and gasped intensely.

"Don't know!" he shouted back a he tried to hold the gasping boy down so he wouldn't hurt himself further.

Sam's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. He gasped as he tried to pull in air around the drowning windpipe.

His movements revealed he was choking.

Dean and Bobby immediately lunged to help pull the suffocating young man upright in a desperate attempt to whack his back and free the blockage. Dean held his brother's head up and waited helplessly as he watched his face turned red and the vessels started popping out. More blood sprayed.

"C'mon, c'mon, Sammy, take a breath. Slow it down, kiddo," Dean frantically coached.

Sam finally wheezed in a larger breath, coughed a few times more, and then settled into a more steady breathing pattern. He eventually went limp.

Bobby and Dean eased his body back down to the bed. Dean slipped his hand inside his brother's and gripped it firmly to let him know he was there. Sam's fingers curled lightly around Dean's.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean nervously asked eager to hear his brother's response. Sam's weakness had alarmed him, though after his exertion and fall, it was to be expected.

Sam nodded, but didn't make eye contact with Dean. The older sibling eyed his little brother suspiciously.

Dean grabbed the glass from the table and as Bobby lifted Sam partially up again, he pressed it to his brother's lips.

Sam finally looked at Dean and shook his head, his eyes were obviously tearing up. Dean removed the glass and searched his brother's face trying to discern what was causing his brother's distress. He had a pretty good idea what it was.

"Hey, can you guys give us a minute?" Dean gently requested of Bobby and Joshua.

Sam closed his eyes, not wanting the other hunters to see him cry. He nodded his head, relieved that Dean had understood his unspoken need to be alone with his brother.

"Sure," the hunters answered in stereo. Bobby gently laid Sam back down and the two men excused themselves, closing the door behind them.

Dean looked down at his brother's face. Sam's eyes remained closed, tears dripped out of the sides of them.

"It's just me, now," Dean softly whispered as he picked up the towel of ice Bobby had dropped when Sam was choking and reapplied it to his brother's forehead.

Sam nodded, sniffed and opened his eyes.

"You okay?"

Sam shook his head 'no'.

Dean nodded. He wanted to ask about Sam's head, his nose, his arm and his ribs, but he knew that none of them were the reasons for his little brother's pain.

"How much did you hear?" Dean questioned holding his breath in fear of the answer.

"From just before the part where my brains got splattered all over the chip….." Sam's voice hitched as he became overwhelmed with emotion. He pulled his casted arm up and covered his face, placing his throbbing nose in the crook.

Dean took a deep breath and signed, laying the ineffective ice bag on the bed and burying his head in his hands. It hurt so badly to see Sam suffer and to know he'd heard those words. His little brother needed hope and in that overly blunt conversation, it had been ripped right out from under him.

Dean's pain turned to anger at Joshua. Everything inside of him wanted to go out and show the audacious huntsman whose blood would be spattering all over the place. What the hell good was it to save Sam's life if the damn bastard killed his spirit.

Knowing Sam needed his help, he determined he'd deal with Joshua later. He took a deep breath, settled himself, and tried to offer his brother some comfort.

"You know Joshua, Sammy. He has a way of opening a can of worms with his bare teeth," he offered gently, hoping that maybe his little brother might see the extremeness of the huntsman's words as more of a gross exaggeration rather than an expulsion of truth.

Sam remained quiet. Dean suspected the tears were still flowing.

"Talk to me, Sam," the eldest sibling beckoned needing desperately to know what his brother was feeling to be able to offer him some comfort, some hope. He placed his hand gently on his brother's arm almost willing for it to come down so he and his brother could sort things out together.

"I can't do this anymore," his brother's soft voice whispered out from beneath his bent arm.

Dean's heart sank when he heard his brother's defeated words. He couldn't really blame Sam for feeling that way. His brother's recent peace had come from the sharpshooter's demise and from his belief that Dean would survive the demon's plans. In less than an hour, both had been shot to hell from his perspective. Sam had every reason to give up, but Dean couldn't couldn't allow his brother to do it, not now, not ever. His brother was his responsibility and he would be damned if he would allow hunters or demons, or anything else steal his brother's hope away from him.

"Can't do what, Sam?" Dean asked trying to draw his submerged brother out before he ran silent and deep.

Sam removed his arm, sniffed, wiped his eyes and looked at his brother. "Where do I start?" The pain, that radiated from deep within Sam's soul, radiated out through his eyes and burned Dean's already anguished heart.

"Wherever you want, little brother. I got all day. I'm not goin anywhere."

Sam nodded as tears began to fall. He was touched by his brother's commitment to be there for as long as he needed, but felt broken and unsure if his brother had enough glue to fix him anymore...He was afraid of being picked off like a rabid animal, saddened to be the cause of more deaths, worried about Dean sacrificing himself to save him, and the whole issue of what he would become had resurfaced as more hunters were going to be seeking his "demon helping ass" again. And underlying it all, he felt like he was no longer the person he used to be, the person Jess used to love. He wasn't even sure if she met him today, if she would even look at him or just simply walk by. How could she want him? He was wanted by the police, going to be used for evil by a demon and now was responsible for sixteen deaths. It all seemed like a nightmare, a bad dream that he should eventually wake up from, but instead, it was his life, there was no waking up and Sam simply couldn't deal with it any more.

Dean grew anxious with Sam's silence and beckoned to his brother once again.

"Talk to me, Sammy, please?" Dean begged.

"I want to wake up from this nightmare, Dean, but I can't," he whispered hopelessly. " Because it isn't a nightmare, it's my life. I can't do this any more. I just…I just want to die, to disappear forever...no more demons or hunters or people dying cuz of me...no more vital signs or ice packs or collapsing cuz my body can't hold me up. I'm tired, Dean. I'm so tired. I don't think I can even do one hour at a time anymore."

Sam's tears rained down his face, Dean's right along with his. Sam was broken. No pep talk was gonna help. No promises of 'it will be okay' could glue the kid back together. The hunters' threats had returned, the peace of knowing he would never be facing a gang like Jake's again had been taken from him, and something in him had shattered. Dean felt at a loss to know how to help his little brother put the pieces back together, to help him find his strength to go on.

"Just walk away, Dean, and don't look back," Sam whispered. "Get as far away from me as you can, while you still can, before you end up getting picked off in the Mini Mart by mistake, instead of me, or before you have to sacrifice yourself to keep me from turning evil."

Dean bit his lip. "Sorry, Sammy, but I can't do that."

"What? You gonna tell me we can handle the hunters, together? Huh? That you'll protect me from the demon? That you won't sacrifice yourself? That in time, I can climb a mountain? That Jess could love me like this?"

Tears poured down Sam's cheeks again. He missed her so much. He wanted to go back to Stanford, to Jess, no, go forward, to die and be with her forever.

"Jeezus, Sammy," Dean whispered feeling broken himself. The thought that Sam could loath himself so much as to think that even Jess couldn't love him, the one person in the world that mattered so much to him.

The two sat in silence for a moment. Dean struggled to gain his composure.

"Damn it, Sam, why do you think that Jess couldn't love you?"

"If she knew who I am, what I've done, what I'll become….how could anybody love …" Sam's voice hitched and he was unable to finish.

Dean gently placed his hand flat on his little brother's chest and looked directly into his eyes.

"I know you, little brother. I know who you are, what you've done and what you could become, and it doesn't change a damn thing about how I feel about you. And if Jess was the way you described her to be, it wouldn't make a difference to her either."

Sam pulled away from his brother's touch.

"You think she'd be okay knowing it was my fault that she was sliced and burned on a ceiling for god sake?"

"Sam…" Dean cautioned correctively. He knew it wasn't Sam's fault and he wouldn't allow Sam to blame himself.

"It _is_ my fault, Dean. Don't tell me it isn't. God, if I hear that one more time, I swear I'll…."Sam bit his lip until he drew blood. "I want her back. I want Mom and Dad and Caleb, Pastor Jim and Ellen and Jo and.."Sam began to sob, "and Jess."

Dean grabbed his brother, lifted him up, and held him tight to his chest. Sam sobbed in his brother's arms.

"I wanna die, Dean, please, just let me die."

Dean held on more tightly as the words seared through his heart like a jaded dagger through glass, cracking its once smooth surface on impact and then shattering it into splintering pieces leaving no trace of its previous existence. Tears flooded his eyes, drowning his vision, until they overcame his lids and flooded down his face.

He knew there was nothing he could say to convince his brother of his innocense. He'd tried so many times before. If Sam were going to insist that it was his fault, then he needed Dean to offer him something different.

Dean released his brother and placed his hands gently on Sam's shoulders.

Sam's head hung down as if it was too heavy to lift it up.

Dean slid his hands to the sides of Sam's neck and raised his brother's head. Two pairs of tear filled eyes eventually made contact.

"If you really believe it's your fault, kiddo, and I'm not saying that it is because I know that it's not, but, if you really believe it's your fault, then you need to forgive yourself and trust that Jessica and Mom and Dad, Caleb, Pastor Jim, Ellen and even Jo forgive you too."

Dean searched his little brother's eyes for a sign that he understood.

Sam dropped his head down. "How could they?"

Dean's head followed and he rested his forehead on his brother's hair and gently squeezed the sides of his neck.

"They were all willing to die for you, Sam. Is it such a big leap to believe that they would forgive you as well? Huh?"

Sam wiped the tears out of his right eye. His head remained down as he considered his brother's question.

"If it happened to me... and I knew you were to blame, I'd still forgive you, man, hands down."

Sam exhaled almost in a relieved laugh and sniffled, then pulled his head away from Dean's and looked his brother in the eyes, searching his soul.

Dean looked back allowing his brother's inspection. His love and sincerity shone through and Sam felt a light go on in his darkened soul. Dean really would forgive him.

Sam smiled.The burden of guilt he had been carrying was based on the fact that he knew it was his fault that everyone around him was dying. The more Dean had denied it, the more he had felt alone in his pain and his guilt. But this time, Dean hadn't denied it. He didn't agree with it, but he accepted that Sam felt that way, that it was his reality and worked through his pain from his perspective. Dean was right, if he was guilty, what he needed was forgiveness, and the long list of people he felt he had somehow wronged, simply by his association with them, were all people that loved him and would forgive him. Jess loved him and would have forgiven him. He knew that in his heart.

"Can you see that they'd forgive you?" Dean asked gently.

Sam nodded with a smile and sniffed while he wiped his eyes. "Yeah, I don't know why, but I know they would."

Dean nodded, pleased that Sam had come to that conclusion, and he released his gentle hold on his little brother's neck.

Sam reached out and grabbed his retreating arm and nodded gratefully before releasing it.

Dean smiled briefly, receiving his brother's thank you and pressed on.

"The question is then….can you forgive yourself?" Dean asked softly searching his little brother's eyes.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam answered honestly.

"You got to forgive yourself, Sam. Otherwise this guilt...," Dean placed his hand gently over Sam's heart, "it's gonna destroy you."

Sam nodded. He didn't know if he was ready to forgive himself, but knowing he had the forgiveness of others was a good start towards it.

Dean removed his hand and smiled. He knew his little brother needed more time to be able to do that, but he hoped that he could, one day soon.

Sam took a deep breath as if one of the many loads he was carrying had been lifted. Unfortunately, there were a few dozen still left and his relief was soon overshadowed by the shifting of another one into its place.

"What about the hunters and the demon?" Sam asked looking to Dean for more miracle answers.

"Sam, I don't have all the answers and I'd be lying to you if I said I did, but I can promise you this…..this is all gonna end. You have to believe that. And not by you giving up, either. When you feel like you're falling, you have to hold on tighter, man, not let go."

"I don't know what to hold on to anymore. I thought we were okay about the hunters, but we're not. I thought I'd be getting better, but I got shot again and sick from the blood. I thought we could beat the demon, but I can't even walk down a hallway. I thought even if the demon won and I became some god awful monster that at least you'd be safe, but you tell me you're gonna die trying to prevent it."

"Yeah, well, I'm thinking there's a better way to go on that one," Dean offered apologetically after having talked with Bobby.

"How's that?"

"Together. We both make it up the mountain to the top, together. Nobody dies."

Sam whispered a laugh. "The mountain? Nobody dies," he repeated verbatim. It was absurd. So simplistic that it was actually humorous.

Dean nodded. "Yep."

"Oh, really…..And how do you suppose we do that?" Sam asked almost amused to hear his brother try to weasel out of his ridiculous statement. He brushed his remaining tears aside.

"I'm working on that," Dean muttered playfully, pleased he had engaged his brother to the point of discussing his survival instead of his demise.

"What do you have so far?" Sam questioned thinking he was calling Dean's bluff. He was expecting his brother to squirm at the question. To his surprise, the older sibling didn't.

"Okay, well, I've had some time to think about this, Sam. You've been chosen, right? I mean that much we know."

Sam nodded.

"But did you ever think that maybe that higher power you believe in is the one that chose you, has a plan for you, maybe even to destroy the demon itself? That the damn demon is so afraid of what you will do to its evil ass and all its cohorts that it's trying to destroy you first or get you to give up?"

Sam looked down considering his brother's question.

Dean's head followed Sam's as he attempted to regain his brother's eye contact.

"You said it yourself, you get your visions and we set out to prevent deaths, right?"

Sam nodded.

"You think the demon is helping you save people? It's not in their job descriptions, Sam. And demons lie. Maybe this one is twisting the truth, enough to instill a fear in you of what you'll become, when you should be having a peace in knowing that you serve a greater good, a higher purpose and what you'll become is something even better than what you already are. Maybe we're climbing a mountain thinking the demon is at the top, when maybe it's your greater power up there and the demon's just messing with us all along the way, trying to make us think we can't get there or if we do something horrible will happen. He only wins, if we stop or give up."

Sam remained quiet for a moment and then looked up.

"You came up with this yourself?" Sam questioned impressed by his brother's logic. He liked that his brother acknowledged there might be a higher power and that maybe he was destined to be good and not evil and he liked the fact that his brother would make it to the top with him.

"I did," Dean declared proudly.

"Two for two," Sam announced the score as he wiped a residual tear that had latently attempted to follow the path of its predecessors.

Dean smiled knowing his brother had considered his idea reasonable and possible and had found hope in it. The idea not only brought hope to Sam, but to Dean as well.

"Forgiven and a higher calling," Sam summarized already feeling a bit lighter. "Care to go for three?" Sam questioned playfully.

"Sure. What do I win if I get this last one right?" Dean teased with a smirk on his face.

"A little brother who's willing to take it one hour at a time," Sam offered playfully.

"Oh, man. No pressure, huh?"

"Actually, I'm rethinking the whole giving up thing. It really helps to talk it out, man. Thanks," Sam gratefully responded.

"No problem, kiddo," Dean gently offered with a kind smile and a twinkle in his eye. His brother had gone from hopeless to hopeful and was now willing to try for living again and Dean could not be more pleased.

Bobby and Joshua's yelling voices broke through the lightheartedness of the conversation and the two boys were suddenly drawn back to the problem that was at hand: the hunters.

"So what do we do about Derek and the other hunter?" Sam asked as Joshua's visual description of his death came flashing back into his mind.

Dean was hesitant to get back into this topic. He knew Sam was fragile emotionally at the moment and he feared this conversation could not end well. The bottom line was these hunters might need to be eliminated, and he knew Sam would not deal with that well. He had hoped to handle it all without his brother's awareness, but unfortunately they were past that point.

Both boys sat in silence for a moment listening to the heated conversation that was drifting down the hallway.

_"Damn it, Bobby! If they have to die, so be it!" _Joshua hollered out. It sounded like he slammed something on the floor.

_"I'm just saying do everything you can to prevent it! Sam and Dean don't need more blood on their hands. They've had enough of that lately!"_

The content of the argument as well as the volume at which it was spoken were sobering. Sam turned to Dean with a dreaded look.

"What? We're gonna kill more people now? For what? For me?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

Dean understood Sam's hesitation. He didn't like the idea of killing people, but if they were threatening Sam's life, he could accept it.

"These people might be coming after us," Dean offered finding it surprising that he was taking Joshua's side of the argument. The very side he had argued against not more than a half an hour ago.

"_Me_. You mean after _me_, Dean," Sam clarified shaking his head hating himself for being the reason for all of the killing.

Dean knew Sam was blaming himself, but hadn't realized the depth of guilt he was carrying around for the bastards whose lives weren't worth a second thought.

"Ten at the roadhouse, three at the hospital, one at the motel, now, what? Two more? Is my life really worth sixteen lives, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam. It is!" Dean unequivocally declared.

"I'm not sure the higher power would see it that way," Sam's guilty conscience mumbled out.

"You think God or whatever it is would expect you to lay down your life and die because a bunch of assholes decided you should? God gave you your life and only he has the right to take it!"

Sam silenced. He couldn't really argue with Dean's logic, but he still couldn't accept any more deaths on his behalf.

"No more killing, Dean. Please, no more killing. I'd rather die myself. Tell Joshua no more," Sam pleaded as he grabbed hold of Dean's arm and begged him.

Dean's face twisted in anguish. "I can't do that, Sammy. I can't sit around and do nothing and just wait until somebody, I could have stopped, hurts you. Please, don't ask me to."

The two brothers sat in silence, each feeling the other's pain.

Sam bit his lip as the familiar sting of tears pricked his eyes. How could he ask that of Dean? His brother had already admitted he was his reason for going on, yet, how could he allow another life to be sacrificed for himself. It was a problem without a solution. Destroy Dean or destroy another human being. Sam couldn't do either, not and live with himself.

"So what do we do?" he whispered out hopelessly wanting so much for his older brother to have a solution to this unsolvable problem.

"Tell you what, Sammy. What if I tell Joshua to get the information we need, but not to act on it without our okay?" Dean offered feeling like it would accommodate both of their needs and post pone the pain of having to make a decision now. Sam had dealt with enough for today and Dean knew he needed a rest. "Once we get that, then we can choose what to do, huh?"

Sam was quiet for a moment and Dean waited anxiously for his brother to move in the direction of living again.

"_My_ okay, Dean. Not to act without _my_ okay," Sam clarified knowing Dean would easily okay the removal of a person who was a threat to his life.

Dean paused, looked at his brother's determined eyes, and finally nodded.

Sam set his covers aside and began trying to get up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, where ya going," Dean asked as he quickly moved in to resettle his brother.

"Help me up," Sam softly requested ready to go explain his position on the matter to Joshua.

"Sam," Dean cautioned, not wanting his brother to walk around and take a chance on falling, but even more so, not wanting Sam to go head to head with Joshua. Dean was already planning on taking issue with the man and he was not about to let Sam take the overly frank man on.

"I'll tell him," Dean stated adamantly.

Sam looked suspiciously at Dean.

"I promise. I will. You just stay and rest," he insisted and he moved towards the door not allowing his brother to say differently.

"I'm not afraid of him," Sam called out just as Dean passed through the doorway. He wanted his brother to know he didn't need to run off and protect him from Joshua, for Dean to see that his body was weak, but that he wasn't.

Dean stopped, turned back and looked Sam in the eyes.

"I mean it," Sam added needing his brother to believe him.

"Good, you shouldn't be. He's got nothing over you," Dean winked. The man might be all bronze, but when Sam put his mind to something, he was stronger than anyone.

Sam nodded, glad that Dean understood and believed in him.

Dean tapped the door frame twice and headed down the hallway.

oooOOOooo

The two huntsmen instantly silenced upon Dean's appearance.

"How is he?" Bobby quickly questioned.

Joshua just stood silently.

Dean eyed the silent huntsman as he felt his anger building. He tempered himself briefly to answer Bobby's question.

"He's okay," he uttered quickly as his teeth clenched unconsciously and his anger began to boil.

Bobby nodded relieved, but based on Dean's controlled and even tone, he knew his relief would be short lasted.

Dean stiffened his lip, pointed his finger at Joshua, and spoke very deliberately through his clenched teeth wanting to make his point very clear. "So help me, if you _ever _speak about him like that or hurt him again, I swear to god, you'll be drinking from a straw for the rest of your life. You hear me! Am I making myself clear?!!"

Bobby held his breath uncertain of how long Dean would be allowed to stand. He was preparing himself to take on Joshua if needed to protect the daring young Winchester. Sam had been hurt and he understood, to Dean, that was intolerable. Question was, did Joshua?

Joshua eyed the threatening young hunter standing before him.

Normally, if anyone had dared to speak to the brazen man like that, he wouldn't have been allowed to finish the end of his sentence. But as Dean stood before him, it was as if John were standing there. Same determined angry eyes, same aggressive stance when he felt his family was threatened or when he made his comments about Sam, same stubborn arrogance that he could take the man. And the seasoned hunter couldn't help but be endeared to the kid, as much as Joshua ever became endeared to anyone or anything.

Joshua moved in on Dean until the two men stood nose to forehead. Dean held his ground. Bobby held his breath.

"Never tried that before. Don't know that I ever will," the hunter flatly stated and moved to grab his stuff.

Dean and Bobby quickly exchanged glances, stunned by the oddity of the man's response and then returned their eyes to the departing huntsman.

"I'll call when I find out anything," Joshua called over his shoulder acting like everything was normal and nothing had happened.

"Don't do anything until Sam and I can talk about it." Dean commanded boldly to honor his brother's request.

Joshua stopped and turned around, surprised by the kid's audacity to press his luck by giving him orders, especially ones he knew probably came from Sam.

"What, we need to pow-wow with you brother about everything?" he jested sarcastically.

Dean glared, not liking his sarcasm involving Sam.

Bobby threw a rolled up newspaper at Joshua. "Get out of here before you start more trouble," Bobby commented partly in jest, but mostly serious.

The hunter, who had easily dodged the flying newsprint, smiled, nodded to each man and left closing the door behind him.

TBC

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Rachelly


	21. Love Protects

Chapter 21

Week 1

Throughout the next week, the three hunters tried to rest, heal, and come to terms with all that had happened and what they might be facing in the future. Each handled things in his own way, but all tried to keep busy so that the uncertainty of Derek and Brecken's threat didn't overwhelm them.

Bobby made himself available to Sam and Dean as needed. He ran errands for the boys, gathering food and supplies, and watched over them as they rested and recovered. When not needed, he spent time tinkering on his truck. He offered to tune up Dean's Impala, but the young hunter shooed him away claiming his baby had discriminating taste and only liked to be handled by him. It took Bobby about an hour to get rid of the headache he got from rolling his eyes so high up inside his head. Several times the hunter attempted to relax by reading the newspaper, but soon found out it was hopeless as the Winchester boys always started hovering whenever he did.

Sam spent most of the week resting and regaining some of his strength with Dean close by his side to help and encourage him along the way. Each day the younger sibling grew steadier, and his healing ribs and increasing lung capacity enabled him to be less winded and dizzy when he moved around the apartment. His muscles, though they complained, seemed eager to resume their work and he grew eager to push them to their limits and regain his independence. His hand experienced tingling sensations and once in a while a jolt, as if electricity was being conducted through his elbow to his middle finger. While painful, he was hopeful it was a sign that he would be regaining sensations in his healing limb soon.

Dean knew Sam was feeling better because of his growing restlessness and his constant excuses for get up and out of bed. It was getting more and more difficult to convince his little brother to rest. Since Sam seemed so eager to move around and gain his independence, Dean decided it was time for his little brother to put that energy to good use…in the form of physical therapy.

Much to the youngest Winchester's regret, Dean insisted on absolute rule over his training and made Sam pinky swear to cooperate if he wanted his help. It wasn't more than ten minutes into his first routine that Sam realized his mistake, but a pinky swear was a pinky swear and he knew he had to honor it…well, that, and Dean threatened to kick his ass if he didn't ,and as of yet, Sam was not strong enough to prevent him.

Sam had a few emotional ups and downs along the way, but his demeanor was one of hopefulness as he embraced the forgiveness of his departed loved ones, the hope of having a divine purpose rather than a demonic one, and the assurance that Dean was now determined to stand side by side with him and was no longer resigned to being a martyr for his sake. The hope he felt inside gave him new strength and courage and he found his physical body seemed to be recovering faster as a result.

While Sam seemed to be miraculously improving to the surprise of the other two hunters, Dean seemed to be losing ground and both Bobby and Sam were growing concerned.

Dean's shoulder developed an infection early on in the week and Bobby worried he'd need to reopen the wound to check it for foreign materials that might have been left behind in his initial surgery. Luckily, a high dose of potent antibiotics helped the sickened Winchester and they were spared the unwanted procedure. Even fevered, Dean insisted on helping Sam. His constant straining, in his efforts to do so, pulled and tugged on his wound and significantly slowed its healing.

As much as Sam tried to do things on his own and free Dean to take care of himself, the older sibling wouldn't let him, wouldn't stop fussing over him, and Sam was becoming concerned. It was as if his brother was trying to compensate for something, but Sam couldn't quite put his finger on what.

On top of Dean's slow healing progress, he was also unable to get rest. It wasn't that he tried to stay awake, it was that he couldn't fall asleep. He feared that if he were to shut his eyes even for a moment, something might happen to Sam. He found himself checking the walls for red laser lights and listening for footsteps in the apartment or outside in the parking lot below.

When exhaustion finally claimed the oldest Winchester in sleep, his unconscious mind was assaulted by dark dreams, horrifying nightmares, always involving Sam, suffering atrocities, and him powerless to do anything to prevent them. Night after night his unconscious mind lay witness to Sam's death over and over again. The gruesome images of his little brother, lying mortally wounded in his arms as his blood slowly drain out of him, whispering his name with his last dying breath, followed him into the waking hours of the morning and he found each day he'd wake up less rested than he had been the night before.

Bobby and Sam worried about him as they saw the growing dark circles under his eyes and changes in his behavior, specifically in regards to Sam. He was becoming more and more protective and defensive of his little brother. Whenever either one approached him about it, he shrugged them off using humor to cover up his pain and mask his tortured soul.

Refusing to give up, Sam was always watching and waiting for the perfect moment to get his brother to open up. Dean had done so much for him and he wanted to offer his older brother the friendship and love he had received in the hopes of helping Dean return from the obviously dark place he seemed to have gotten lost in. As of yet, that moment hadn't come and the two existed in the playful banter they had grown accustomed to. It was refreshing and safe and for now was where Dean felt most comfortable. Sam willingly obliged.

Bobby, Dean and Sam also spent the week waiting for updates from Joshua. Earlier on, the hunter had reported promising news that Derek was still in jail and hadn't had any new visitors. A few days later, Joshua announced that Brecken was on the move. Based on the conspiracy hunter's comments to local hunters, he was off planning a hunt, the details of which no one knew. Days later, Joshua was still attempting to track down the hunter to determine his level of threat. While the information wasn't much, it was all they had to go on and the boys tried to take comfort in knowing that Joshua was on it and would eventually find the hunter. They only hoped that the hunt Brecken was planning didn't involve Sam and that if it did, Joshua would find the conspiracy hunter before he found them.

oooOOOooo

Week 2

A second week brought no new word from Joshua. Both boys considered the possibilities of why that was, but neither talked about them. Instead they kept themselves busy. Sam found enjoyment in his independence, what little of it he had regained, and pushing his body to its limits to get more. Dean found enjoyment in pushing Sam, not only in the physical therapy program he had developed, but in other ways as well...

"O-o-o-o-o-o-nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnne," Dean counted loudly, over exaggerating how long Sam was taking to walk from one end of the hallway to the other.

It was one of their typical routines to build up Sam's strength, stability, and stamina. Sam did the walking, Dean the counting. Dean shadowed Sam along the way, making sure he was not gonna land flat on his face.

Sam found the shadowing annoying, but understood why his brother did it. He still had the goose egg on his forehead to remind him in case he should forget. When he got to the end of the hallway he had a tremendous urge to bang his head on the door. He figured even striking the knot on his head had to be less painful than listening to Dean counting out his pace.

Realizing there was little he could do to end his misery, Sam turned around and began the long trek back, sleep walking style.

"Twooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…"

While Sam appreciated his brother's dedication to helping him get stronger, Sam found this particular routine irritating and couldn't help but wonder if its purpose was more to strengthen his self control than his physical stamina.

"Threeeeeee…."

"Dude! Would you quit it," Sam snapped as he began his third lap. "This is annoying enough as it is without listening to you whine out each lap from beginning to end."

"Aw, c'mon Sammy, I'm helping you here," Dean teased as he sauntered close behind his brother.

"Oh yeah? And how's that?" Sam questioned stopping abruptly allowing his brother to crash into him proving his point that his over protective presence was far from helpful.

Dean frowned and rubbed his jaw which now ached from impacting with his brother's boney body. "I'm providing motivation," he quipped with a crooked smile and a twinkle in his eye. "You want me to stop? Then move your ass fast enough so that the numbers aren't so loooong and draaaaawn out."

"You hate me," Sam muttered as he continued sauntering on towards the end of his third lap.

".rrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," Dean continued mockingly.

Sam started the fourth lap at a much faster pace. Dean quickened his step to keep up.

"Foooooooooour. See that, it's working," Dean quipped when his brother completed his lap in half the time.

"If I do the next one in under five seconds, will you shut up?" Sam asked attempting to bargain his way out of his brother's torture.

"Sure," Dean agreed confident that Sam could move that fast if he tried. His brother hadn't been giving his all and Dean knew it, and he was eager to add to the difficulty level of his little brother's workout once he proved that he could.

Sam eyed his brother suspiciously when he was so quick to give up his heckling. Unaware he would be bringing himself more physically challenging routines by being successful, he set off at a much faster pace eager to shut his irritating brother up. He was surprised the quicker pace felt no differently than his slow, turtle like speed. It didn't hurt more, wear him out more, or even make him shaky. He reached the end of the hallway and slapped his hands on the door in record time. Sam turned to his brother with a big smile eager to collect on the deal he had just secured.

"Fiive" Dean finished aloud. His word almost sounded normal in its length.

"Okay?" Sam sarcastically asked, not really intending it as a question, but more as a statement.

"Close," Dean evaluated unscrupulously.

"What do you mean close?!!! I did it in five!"

"No, it was more like fiive," Dean enunciated.

Sam scowled.

"Okay, man, I'll give it to you," Dean laughed having the time of his life annoying the heck out of his little brother. "It's a hell of a lot better than that pathetic saunter you were doing earlier. I was practically falling asleep following behind you."

"Good, you needed the rest," Sam teased back.

"Alright, smart ass. Now go to ten and add knee bends at each end and then you'll be done for the night."

Sam looked over at Bobby who was reading his paper, pretending not to be listening. His smirk on his face told otherwise.

Sam sought out the older hunter's sympathy. "See, I told you. He's Dr. Torment-o"

Bobby smiled. "I'm staying out of this, boys. In fact, I'm gonna go get some fresh air," he added as he threw on his jacket and pulled his keys from his pocket. " Listening to you girls squabble is enough to drive anyone crazy!" He opened the door and called out over his shoulder, " And don't wait up for me, either!"

Dean just stared at the retreating huntsman as he disappeared out into the darkness, envious that he wasn't going out for a night on the town himself. He turned back to his little brother.

"I don't squabble," Dean declared indignantly.

"Yeah, Dean, you do," Sam corrected him.

"Pfffffhhh," the older sibling puffed out.

Dean frowned at Sam and then suddenly the downward corners of his mouth began to curl up at the edges and Sam knew he was in trouble.

"sssssssssiiiiiiiiiii …" Dean obnoxiously began again, trying to get his brother to get his rear in gear.

Sam took off down the hallway grumbling something about Dean breaking the deal.

"So sue me!" Dean hollered playfully back as he hurried to catch up to his now winded brother. Dean continued following right behind him to the end.

After completing the ten laps with knee bends at the ends, Sam was exhausted and ready to turn in. Dean helped him get changed and cleaned up when he needed it, but for the most part, Sam did it himself. Dean tossed him an extra blanket in case he might need it and Sam settled into bed.

"Thanks, mom," Sam whispered.

"Don't even start!" Dean whispered back as he turned out the light and settled himself into bed.

It was a common routine and Dean had it down pat. Throw the blanket at Sam, turn out the light and pretend to sleep. Sam had been bugging him about getting sleep so he would lay down until his brother fell asleep and then get up and prowl.

Dean lay awake pleased that things had gone well for Sam. Ten laps wasn't much, but it was a hell of a lot more than he was doing a few days earlier and he'd done them five times today. Dean began going over his physical therapy program for Sam for his morning routine as he lay back in his bed.

"Don't," an all too familiar voice whispered out in the dark.

"Don't what?" the surprised older sibling questioned.

"You know what," Sam answered back.

"Snore? I wasn't asleep, Sam, how the hell could I be snoring," he declared defensively assuming Sam was accusing him of his midnight moaning.

Sam had hurled a pillow at him the night before claiming he had been snoring and had asked him to turn over. Truth was, it hurt his shoulder to sleep on his side or chest, so when he did settle in to try to sleep, which was practically never these days, he had to be on his back and unfortunately, whenever Dean slept on his back, he snored.

Anticipating a future attack, Dean had removed all of Sam's extra pillows from his bed earlier and had the fluffy arsenal on the floor beside him between his bed and the wall for easy reach should his brother lob his only pillow in Dean's direction.

"You were planning my torture for tomorrow," Sam whispered. "I can feel the pain already and I haven't even started yet."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sammy. What? You think I lay awake at night planning your stupid little therapy routines?" Dean joked surprised his little brother had known what he was doing. God it was weird to be known so well.

"Yes and I'm glad you agree that they're stupid." Sam gave a high pitched laugh as he prided himself on nailing his brother so smoothly. "Ah, Dean, I can't believe you just left the door wide open for that one," he laughed out again.

"Ha, Ha," Dean grumbled kicking himself for giving Sam an easy on.

"Speaking of doors being wide open, what do you say we do laps outside tomorrow, Dean? You know, go somewhere," Sam suggested.

"Sam," Dean stated correctively. "No."

"Please? It's driving me nuts to be inside all the time," he explained hoping that maybe this time Dean would yield.

"You can forget it," Dean rebuked flatly.

Sam sighed. He knew where this conversation was going and he didn't have the energy to argue it again. Dean was not going to allow Sam out until Joshua had reported the threat factor to be zero. He felt like he was a country constantly being assessed for its likelihood of a terrorist attack and he was always on "high alert".

On top of that, he knew Dean needed to get out. Whatever he was over compensating for, it was slowly eating away at him. His brother was touting humor and playfulness, but underneath it, Sam could still see Dean was troubled and he was feeling helpless to do anything to relieve his sibling's buried pain. He thought maybe if he could get his brother out, living life, as Dean described it, then maybe they could talk things out and help him deal with whatever it was that was troubling him.

Dean felt badly when he heard his brother's discouraged sigh. "Sam, I need you to work with me on this, okay? Just until we know that it's safe or at least until you're able to handle yourself, defend yourself if you need to."

Sam remained quiet.

"Sam?"

"Yeah," the younger sibling sighed out.

"Okay?"

Sam understood why his brother was being protective. He really couldn't defend himself if he needed to. But more than that, he was willing to yield for Dean's sake and he hoped in doing so, his brother might be more open to share what was eating him. Sam's only hesitation was whether he could handle the claustrophobic feeling that was building inside of him, for another few days.

"Okay," he agreed.

Sam closed his eyes and reached for an extra pillow to hug while he slept. He was surprised to find it missing, but didn't want to bother Dean for it so he turned on his side, bunched up his blankets a bit and settled down to sleep.

Dean fidgeted as he lay awake for hours listening to his brother's rhythmic breathing. He hoped that maybe if he listened long enough, his brother's well being might somehow blend into his dreams and keep them from going dark. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him and he unknowingly closed his eyes. His unconscious mind searched for the peaceful land where dreams were supposed to come true. Unfortunately, he ended up reliving the hellish nightmare of the roadhouse again, and slowly watched his brother die in his arms, helpless once again to do anything to stop it.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam woke up to the strange sound of metal rubbing against metal in his ear and sensed a presence hovering over him. He immediately flashed open his eyes and scrambled to sit up. A firm hand on his upper chest forced him back down. He grabbed at the arm that held him as his blurry eyes cleared.

"Dean?"

Dean smiled, amused by his little brother's panicked reaction.

"You scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doing?" Sam asked breathlessly.

Dean laughed and released his hand from his brother's chest. He held his other hand up revealing a pair of cast scissors and a vibrating saw. His Cheshire Cat grin, smeared across his face, showed his complete enjoyment of rousing his brother in such an obnoxious way.

"It's your coming out day, Sammy!" he teased. "S'been well over eight weeks."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Cute…You think I'm letting you anywhere near me with that thing?" Sam asked his brother in amazement as he eyed the scissors.

"It vibrates, geek boy, it can't cut you!" Dean laughed.

"I know that, it's not the saw I'm nervous about."

"What, these little things?" he teased as he held up flat bottomed scissors. "Quit being such a girl, Sammy. Now give me your arm," Dean ordered as he reached out for his brother's cast.

"No, I'll do it myself," Sam pouted still pissed at Dean's annoying arousal.

"Like that's gonna happen," the eldest sibling commented sarcastically.

"What? I can move this hand," he answered holding up his tingling, but mostly numb hand and wiggling his fingers. It's numb, not dead, Dean."

"I never said it was dead, Sam," Dean clarified defensively wanting to make it perfectly clear to his brother that he never thought of it that way. He sat down on the bed beside his brother and held out his hand. "Now, let me help you, alright?"

While Sam could move his fingers and arm, he knew there was no way he could manipulate the vibrating saw or the scissors effectively enough to remove his cast. He begrudgingly placed his hand in his waiting brother's.

Dean began holding the vibrating tip against his brother's cast. The hand shaped crust powdered up and disintegrated rapidly wherever it touched.

"So where, pray tell, did we get this stuff?" Sam asked referring to the medical supplies Dean was holding.

"Our friendly neighborhood hospital thief," Dean replied amusingly. "And here we thought he was out partying all night."

"I'm surprised they even let Bobby in the doors anymore with all the stuff he's stolen," Sam muttered sarcastically.

"Hey!" a voice called out from just outside the bedroom door. Bobby appeared seconds later. "I don't steal stuff….. I …..I borrow it," he explained playfully as he entered to see if help was needed to remove Sam's cast.

"Borrowing usually implies returning something, Bobby," Sam clarified for the self-justifying thief as he watched his cast finally begin to crack open.

"Let's just say I borrow things …..indefinitely," Bobby explained with a smile.

"Pffffhhh," Sam laughed at the family friend's rationalization.

"Well it's not like I can return the stuff wise guy! You used most of it," Bobby complained.

Sam nodded admitting he had a point.

"Could drop it in the _biohazard_ bins they have there," Dean teased. "Then at least you could say you returned it, right?"

"Thanks," Sam muttered knowing Dean had just insulted him.

"Don't mention it, little brother," Dean whispered with a teasing smile on his face.

Having cracked the cast, Dean took the scissors and began cutting away the gauze that lay sandwiched between the cast and Sam's arm. Sam felt the cool flat metal press against his arm and was grateful Dean wasn't using a pointed pair of scissors.

"Need anything?" Bobby asked as he peeked at Dean's handiwork.

"We're good," Dean answered as he cut the final pieces away.

"You ready?"

Sam nodded.

Dean forced the cast open and Sam slid his hand awkwardly through the limited space his brother was offering him. The limb was whitish gray in color and in desperate need of a bath. The collection of sweat and dirt that had gotten trapped in the closed space for over eight weeks had concocted an undeniable stench. Sam opened and closed his hand and twisted his wrist. It was definitely stiff and weak, but it felt good to finally be free.

Dean held up the shell of his brother's arm between two fingers as if it were a dead rat.

"Speaking of biohazards. Uh, Bobby? You asked if we needed anything? Can you take this thing out and kill it!"

Sam rolled his eyes as he continued fiddling with and feeling his newly freed hand.

Dean couldn't help but notice his brother's preoccupation with his hand and decided to harass him about it.

"It's a hand for gods sake, Sam, not a woman!"

"Yeah, well, I haven't seen it for a while and I sure could use a good one."

Dean laughed as he applied Sam's words to a woman in his mind. God he loved his brother's innocence.

Bobby slapped Dean's arm, knowing full well what sleazy thoughts were rolling around in his head. "You should be more like your brother, sweet and innocent," Bobby corrected playfully.

As he left the room with the cast held out in front of him, he caught a whiff of the odor Dean had been making a big deal of. "Okay, maybe just innocent," he clarified eyeing the disgusting shell. "I'll take this thing directly to the dumpster."

Sam rolled his eyes again. "What ever happened to bedside manners?" he hollered out as the older hunter bolted mockingly down the hall. Sam heard the slam of the apartment door.

"You're welcome," Dean initiated.

"For what?" Sam pretended to ask innocently.

"For taking your cast off," Dean explained as if his brother was dense.

"Oh, I was thinking you should be thanking me," Sam teased with a twinkle in his eye.

"Now why the hell would I be thanking you?" Dean grumbled.

"For trusting you not to cut my arm off," Sam explained as if it were obvious.

"Oh, really?" Dean muttered sarcastically as he worked the scissors threateningly. "I'll cut something else off!"

Sam pretended to scramble away from his brother in fear and the two laughed. Sam watched Dean, pleased to see his brother happy, free for a moment of the burden of taking care of him, not hiding behind humor to cover up his pain, just simply enjoying the brotherhood that they shared.

Dean noticed Sam's gaze and knew what Sam was thinking and he became embarrassed. It wasn't Sam's job to be looking out for him. He was the oldest. He quickly changed the subject and attempted to move on.

"Alright. You ready for a shower? Get this thing," Dean grasped Sam's newly uncasted wrist and dropped it on the bed," cleaned up?"

Dean waved his hand in front of his nose.

"This _thing_ will be able to shoot silver bullets straighter now, probably save your ass some day so show a little respect."

"I'll give it all the respect it deserves," Dean responded as he pinched off his nose and stood up.

Sam shook his head and began moving to get out of bed. Dean quickly moved in to help him.

"I think I got it, Dean," Sam whispered.

Dean was pleased his brother was willing to try, but couldn't help but shadow him all the way to the bathroom.

"I'll go grab some clothes and a bag for your stitches so they don't get wet. I'll be right back."

"Sam lingered at the door of the bathroom until his brother returned. He reached out for the clothes and plastic bag, and once they were received he grabbed onto the door preparing to close it.

Dean remained on the other side with his mouth hanging open in surprise.

"I'd like to try this on my own, okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Uh, sure. Great! Okay, no problem," Dean answered. He was pleased his brother was feeling confident and only wished he was as well. "If you feel weak or like you're gonna fall or anything, call me, okay?"

Sam reopened the door. "Okay, thanks," he muttered and closed it again.

Dean leaned against the door pressing both hands against its overly varnished surface. "And if you get too tired to finish up, I can always…."

Sam reopened the door and Dean practically fell in. He straightened himself quickly as Sam eyed him oddly.

"…help, I know Dean. Thanks. I really think I'll be okay."

Dean nodded. "Good for you, you know, cuz…"

Sam closed the door again. He could still hear his over protective brother mumbling on the other side of it.

"I'll wait right here just in case," Dean added finding it hard to leave and trust his brother's judgment.

Dean heard the lock button on the knob push in.

"click"

"Okay, then," he mumbled as he waited a bit before walking away from the door.

Dean sauntered down to the living room and was pleased to find Bobby reading the paper.

"Any news about Tommy or the motel?" Dean initiated happy to interrupt the older hunter's quiet reading time.

"They didn't find his body, if that's what you're asking," Bobby answered. "Just mentioned there was a shooting at the motel, but really doesn't say much else. It's definitely no longer front page news so that's good. Hopefully the police will wrap their investigtion up soon and not go looking too deep in the woods."

Dean nodded relieved and began wandering around fiddling with things in the room. His movements were distracting as the hunter tried to focus on his paper.

"He taking a shower?" Bobby finally asked knowing he was not going to get a chance for the quiet moment he had hoped for. He shook his head amazed that the young Winchester before him had chosen that exact time to begin his fidgeting.

"Yep," Dean confirmed a bit nervously as he eyed the shut door from his position down the end of the hallway.

"S'good," Bobby added eyeing Dean over the top of his newspaper. He noticed a slight hesitation in Dean's voice and remembered seeing the young Winchester loitering outside the bathroom door earlier before he had come down and begun his fiddling. "Don't you think?"

Dean heard the shower turn on and paused to listen. When he didn't hear his brother's call, his attentions went back to Bobby.

"Yeah, of course," Dean answered wiping his hands on his jeans after wiping the dust off the top of the TV. He began pretending to look at something out the living room window.

Bobby eyed him suspiciously. "You nervous?"

"What me?" Dean asked as he turned around and looked at Bobby like he was crazy. " No, of course not," Dean answered adamantly, over exaggerating the fact that he wasn't. His insistence only proved that he was.

"Uh huh," Bobby uttered in a sarcastic tone as he returned to his paper knowing full well it was pointless to try to read the damn thing.

Dean frowned knowing Bobby had read him like a book and interrupted the hunter again.

"It's just…..I don't want him to hurt himself is all. He's had enough hurt for a while," the empathetic hunter finally admitted.

Bobby nodded, clearly understanding Dean's pain. Sam's pain was Dean's. Each time Sam had been hurt, Dean had been wounded as well. Inside. It wasn't just that he feared Sam couldn't take much more, it was also that Dean didn't know if he could take seeing Sam get hurt any more.

"You gotta let go," Bobby tossed out as he folded his newspaper and laid it on his lap.

"What, you think I'm babying him?" Dean asked surprised by his friend's comment.

"No, I didn't say that," Bobby clarified.

"Well, it sounds like you did," Dean grumbled.

"You gotta let go of constantly trying to overprotect him," the wise and daring hunter gently suggested.

"You think I'm _over_protecting him?!!" Dean asked incredulously. "For god sake, he's been beaten to near inches of his life, shot four damn times, drugged, suffered withdrawal, can't feel much in his left hand, s'got a freakin egg on his forehead and it's forming a black eye as it drains as we speak, and you think I'm _over_ protecting him! I'd say I haven't been protecting him enough!" Dean hissed as the guilt of the past eight weeks pressed in on him practically suffocating his over stressed body.

Bobby was relieved that Dean had finally expressed the pain that had been eating away at him for the past week. He'd seen the kid pacing at night and unrested in the morning. He'd seen Dean hovering over Sam in a way he'd never hovered before.

"It's not your fault, Dean," Bobby finally stated.

"Like hell it isn't! Sam's my responsibility. As far as I'm concerned, if the kid has a bruise on his face, I as much as put it there. It doesn't matter if I did it myself, or didn't prevent it from happening. The roadhouse, the hospital, hell, the motel…..I screwed up royally, Bobby," Dean confessed hating himself for it, "And Sam's the one who's suffered for it."

"That's your daddy talking, Dean. He put that responsibility on you," Bobby gently offered feeling Dean's pain and wanting to relieve it. " You need to look at what you saved Sam from, not what he suffered. You saved him from death…. at the roadhouse, the hospital, and the motel and you've kept him from giving up."

"It's not enough. I don't ever want him to…" Dean's voice hitched.

"What? Get hurt again?" Bobby finished gently knowing the young man needed to get it out in the open where they could deal with it.

He could tell Dean had a lot more he needed to say and he wasn't about to let the normally masked Winchester cover up before dumping the toxins that were poisoning him from the inside out. Dean's drive to keep Sam from ever getting hurt again was based on his guilt and feelings of failure, not just on the pain of seeing his brother suffer.

"What they did to him, Bobby, if you had been there." Dean bowed his head and shook it, over come with emotion. "I can't get the images out of my head. I have nightmares about it. The gunshots, point blank range, his body jerking on impact, the torture and manipulation, his blood everywhere, on his leg, his shoulder, his chest, his head, running down his face, then that blank stare when I thought he was dead, the seizures, the sharpshooter picking him off like he was nothing, his numb arm. I was powerless to stop it."

Dean looked at Bobby with such intense sadness in his eyes. "I would have gladly died to prevent any of it from happening to him."

Bobby nodded feeling Dean's pain. Sam had suffered the unthinkable and Dean was broken because of it. On top of his pain for his brother, the young hunter was blaming himself for not having prevented it or having taken his place. Racked with guilt, he was desperately trying to over compensate by smothering Sam, as if trying to make right what he felt he had done terribly wrong.

"And that's why you're over protecting him," Bobby stated trying to help Dean see the connection between his guilt and brokenness for Sam and his new over protectiveness.

"No….well, yes…Wouldn't you?"

"Gut instinct would tell me to," Bobby offered trying to put Dean's mind at ease that his shared feelings were understandable and accepted without judgment, " but if I were able to be objective, no. There's no wrong to right on your part, Dean. No need to torture yourself to pay penitence for something you didn't do. And trying to prevent your brother from ever experiencing pain again by over protecting him is not healthy for him or for you. Pain's part of life. Part of Sam's healing is learning to deal with pain, learning how to manage it, control it, overcome it and be stronger for the victory. You want to help him, you gotta let go. He's ready to try, to work to get his strength and independence back and he needs you to believe he can and free him to try. If he fails, he fails. You can be there to help him get back up. But if you don't let him try, he'll become the very thing you're trying to prevent him from becoming…helpless, hopeless, and unable to return to who he was."

Dean wiped his hand across his face. "It's just, I feel like if I don't 'over protect' Sam, he might get hurt or leave me." Dean could not put the words Sam and die in the same sentence.

The cause of Dean's distress was not only based on his feelings of failure and guilt at seeing his brother nearly destroyed, it was also because he was nearly destroyed himself, having faced his greatest fear over and over again….the fear of losing Sam…and the emotional fall out was devastating for the older sibling.

"Dean, you have to realize Sam's not the only victim here. You've suffered too."

"Sammy's suffered a hell of a lot more than me," Dean corrected unable to focus on his own pain for even a minute.

"Sam's been through hell, yes, but so have you," Bobby continued wanting to help Dean understand the root of his sleeplessness, over protectiveness, and fear. "You've not only been hurt, you've had to watch the one person that matters most in your life suffer over and over to the point of death.

"What's your point?" Dean painfully requested.

"My point is that you need time to heal too, inside and out. To deal with what you suffered, the torture, beatings, knifing, and gunshot wound, to deal with the fact that you almost lost Sammy, and to free yourself from the guilt. You're hurting so badly for him and blaming yourself for his pain and it's killing you. You need to let that guilt go and not allow it to control or destroy you.

"How the hell do I do that?"Dean questioned not really sure he could let go of the guilt even if he wanted to.

"Focus on the fact that you saved him. Your brother is alive and willing to live, Dean, because of you. There's no guilt in that, son."

Bobby paused allowing time for his point to sink in.

"And you need to take care of yourself, allow your body and soul to heal."

Bobby looked at Dean, surprised the hunter didn't disagree with him. Bobby knew Dean might not focus on his own healing while Sam was still recovering and he felt that the two were interconnected and threatened to sabotage each other.

" Until you do, until you can let go of the guilt and your fear of losing your brother, you can't really help Sam make it the rest of the way back. Your unresolved pain is creating an instinct in you to hold on tighter to him, but in doing so, you're suffocating him yourself. He needs to believe in himself to heal and if you don't believe in him, he won't either."

"I believe in him," Dean interjected defensively. " Sam's survived a hell of a lot of things I don't think I ever could have, done things I would never have dared to try. He's a lot stronger than people realize and a lot of his strength is in his nature, his heart. Something Joshua will never understand. I know Sam can beat this! "

"Then why are you over protecting him? If you really believe in him, let him go. Let him see what he can do, see that your faith in him is deserved. Then and only then will he truly heal…as will you."

Dean sat down on the couch and rubbed his hands on the tops of his legs. He knew Bobby was right. Sam was ready to live again and out of his own pain, guilt, and fear he was holding him back. The overly simplistic therapy routines, keeping his brother inside away from the windows, not letting the kid walk around without shadowing him everywhere. He wiped his hand across his unshaven face and scratched his chin.

"Trust him to tell you when he needs help and what he needs you to do. At least with the smaller stuff right now. The demon, the hunters, sure you need to watch his back, but let him live while you do it."

Dean nodded as he felt a familiar sting in the corners of his eyes. Bobby's words rang true in his heart and gave him the direction he needed to find his way out of the darkness he had been lost in for the past few weeks. The heavy burden that had weighed him down seemed a little lighter, more manageable. Sure he had to work through his fear of losing Sam. Truth was, he knew he never could, but he could work on letting his brother live, untethered by his guilt and pain and fears.

"How do you know all this stuff?" Dean finally asked with affection as he admired the family friend and huntsman who sat before him.

"I've learned it along the way. Your dad taught me a lot too," Bobby added with a warm smile.

"You and Dad, how was it with you two? Last time I saw you with him you were trying to shoot him full of buckshot," Dean smiled whispering a laugh at the memory of his dad's face when Bobby turned his gun on him.

"Yeah, well, I told you before, your daddy had that effect on people," Bobby laughed softly remembering John with much love and respect despite his confrontational approach at times.

Dean nodded as he kept his eyes fixed on Bobby. He was eager to know more if the hunter was willing to open up.

"He was like a brother and a best friend in some ways, Dean, even though we saw things a whole lot differently."

Dean thought he heard the shower turn off and paused to listen. When he didn't hear his brother's call, his attentions went back to Bobby.

"So how were you alike and how were you different?" Dean questioned wanting to know more about his dad and the man that sat before him.

Bobby was surprised by Dean's openness, but was happy to oblige, figuring the boy wanted to know his dad better by seeing him through his old eyes.

"We both got drafted into hunting evil, your daddy motivated by your mom's death, me by my dad's."

Dean cocked his head, not realizing Bobby's reason for being a hunter.

"My dad was a hunter, died when I was twenty, just got my degree in auto mechanics. I took it upon myself to avenge his death and never really looked back."

"Sorry," Dean sympathized gently, knowing the pain of losing a father all too well.

"Yeah, well, life can be a bitch," Bobby sighed and scratched his beard. " I hooked up with your daddy a few years later. We were both hunting a werewolf in the woodlands of Nebraska." Bobby smiled as the memory flashed in his mind. " Damn near shot him when he appeared out of no where soon after I'd lost a visual on the wolf I was hunting. He said he worked alone. I did too. Seconds later, we were trounced by a pair and were fighting for I lives."

Dean looked intently at Bobby eager to hear what happened.

" In the end, it was working together that saved our sorry asses. Your dad and me? We were buds from then on….Sure we had a falling out once in a while, but we knew we could count on each other," Bobby paused as the loss of his good friend tugged at his heart. " He trusted me with you boys on many occasions," he added feeling honored.

Dean smiled feeling warmed by the memory of staying at Bobby's.

" That right there says it all. Your daddy was pretty protective of you boys back then."

Dean nodded his head. He was glad his dad had had Bobby for a friend and grateful he and Sam did too.

The shower turned off and Dean made his way to the bathroom door. He was tempted to call in, but decided not too. Bobby was right. He needed to back off and let his brother try. Moments later when he heard sounds indicating his brother was moving inside and not collapsed on the floor, he returned to find Bobby reading the newspaper.

"So what are you reading," Dean asked with a lighthearted tone and a devious smile on his face.

"Some article on," Bobby looked up from his paper suspiciously. "Oh no, you don't! Nice try wise ass! If you think I'm gonna sit here and let you ruin my paper reading, you're crazy. Go find someone else to pester….besides your brother."

Dean frowned. He was disappointed he couldn't harass the old hunter.

"Fine," he spat playfully and made his way to the kitchen for a snack.

oooOOOooo

Twenty long minutes later, Sam emerged from the bathroom, clean, shaven, and exhausted.

Dean quickly greeted him at the bathroom door, and though tempted to shadow him to the room, deliberately held back allowing his brother the freedom to move without his hovering.

Part way there, Sam reached out for his brother's shoulder to steady himself.

Dean moved in allowing his sibling to stabilize and draw strength from him, and then helped him back to bed.

Sam slid under the covers, laid back and smiled, well pleased with his accomplishment.

Dean smiled back. _Atta boy, Sammy_

oooOOOOoo

Sam and Dean awoke the next day to the sound of Bobby's cell ringing from the living room. Based on the fact that it only rang twice, the brother's deduced the hunter was anxious to speak to the caller. Dean assisted Sam as they quickly got up and the two moved into the hallway and headed towards Bobby, eager to listen to the one sided conversation.

"Yeah, man, talk to me," Bobby's voice spoke out with intensity.

The hunter paused as he listened intently.

"Damn" he whispered out as he reacted to the information that was being passed along. He eyed the brothers as they neared him and held up his hand gesturing for them to wait. He wanted to be sure he heard everything before he passed it along to the boys. His face indicated something was wrong. Dean felt a rush of adrenaline sting through his system.

Dean mouthed Joshua's name asking Bobby to confirm it was he on the phone.

Bobby nodded.

Sam and Dean waited anxiously having heard the huntsman's curse.

"How the hell did you miss him?" Bobby hissed.

The brother's shared a look. Dean couldn't help but notice his brother's nervous expression and deliberately tried to calm himself down so as not to add to his brother's worry.

"Has he had any other visitors?" Bobby questioned tensely.

(pause)

"Thank God."

Sam felt a little hope at Bobby's statement of relief and held out that maybe things weren't as bad as he had originally thought.

"No, Joshua, we need to check with the boys first and see what _they_ want to do," Bobby cautioned.

Dean nodded his head in agreement with Bobby's statement. Sam glanced over at Dean. He was fearful that Joshua might not see things that way.

"I don't give a damn what you think. It's their call, not yours," Bobby hissed as he rose to his feet.

The boys watched intently and were relieved to see Bobby settle a bit.

"Right here. Just wait. I'll ask"

Bobby looked at the Winchester brothers and delivered Joshua's news.

"Derek, the hunter in jail," he clarified unnecessarily as both of the brothers already remembered he guy from the roadhouse, "has had only one visitor since Joshua was there last time." Bobby paused knowing Dean would not like the news. "It was Bracken."

"Damn it!" Dean cursed as he wiped his hand across his face and looked at Sam to gage his brother's reaction.

Sam was troubled, but holding his own.

"Joshua thinks that if Bracken is returning he has to be listening to something Derek's saying. Wants to know what you want him to do."

Bobby searched Sam and Dean's faces for an answer.

"Tell him to find the damn hunter and figure out what he's up to!" Dean spat, angry that the guy was given a second pass at Derek's lies. "What ever is is? It can't be good that he's in there to see the bastard again."

"No, I think he means about Derek and him talking from his jail cell. He wants to know if you want him to take the guy out."

"No," Sam answered flatly.

Both hunters turned to Sam.

"No," he reiterated more emphatically. "No killing, remember. It's my call," he added looking at Dean to keep his word.

"Sam, this guy could be building up a gang again," Dean stated gently, not wanting to upset his brother, but wanting Sam to realize the choice he was making, the possibility he could become the target of a lynching mob again.

"Dean, no. He can't hurt me if he's in jail. You promised. It's my call," Sam's gentle eyes pleaded.

Sam saw the concern etched all over Dean's worried face.

"Right now, let's just keep an eye on him, okay?" Sam asked trying to soothe his brother's fears.

Dean looked at Bobby hoping the hunter would say something, anything to help.

Bobby gave no response. Truth was, both brothers were right. His protective side said don't risk it, take the guy out, his moral side said until he threatens Sam, it would be wrong. While in jail, he was not gonna be coming after Sam.

Dean turned back to Sam. His brother's features were set in absolute determination. "Self defense, maybe, Dean, but not murder."

Dean paused to think. He would have normally thought that way, but with Sam's life as the central issue, he was willing to be more proactive even if it included taking Derek out. He didn't like Sam's use of the word murder. The guy had already threatened Sam's life and to Dean, this was just a postponed self defense scenario. Still, he had to respect his brother's moral fortitude, even if he didn't like what it might result in. Dean gave Sam an understanding, but worried look and finally nodded.

Sam smiled nervously, unsure of what the consequences of his decision might be.

"But I don't want the two of them together again!" Dean growled out, not willing to allow the two hunters any more opportunities to formulate plans.

Bobby put his cell to his ear. "Wait and watch, but keep them separate," he reported.

He suddenly held the phone away as the angered hunter's voice squawked loudly from the other end. When he was sure the man had calmed, he placed it back against his ear and listened.

"Both"

"You son of a bitch! You're wrong, damn it! Sam's not..." Bobby suddenly stopped, not wanting to reveal the content of Joshua's recent comment for fear of hurting Sam and upsetting Dean.

Dean eyed Bobby suspiciously as the hunter turned his back towards the brothers and began moving towards the hallway.

"I said they both want to wait, damn it! Now get off his back," Bobby hissed as he walked down the hallway. His voice dissipated with the distance, but his tone clearly indicated he and Joshua were not in agreement and the calloused hunter did not approve of the decision that had been made.

Dean looked over to Sam and frowned. He knew Joshua was bad mouthing Sam and he hated the guy for it and worried about its effect on his little brother.

Sam raised his eyebrows, scrunched his lips and sighed heavily.

"He's wrong about you, you know," Dean offered softly.

"I don't really care," Sam whispered, though his eyes showed that he did. His face had the same vulnerable look it always did when he was little and Joshua laid into him.

Dean dared to continue. "He just doesn't get you, man. Your strength lies in your sensitivity, in your moral high ground. You're a better person than him because you stop and think and you value life. He gave all that up years ago. Thought he had to in order to keep on living. Irony of it all is that he's only surviving, he's not really living and we both know, that's just not enough."

Sam's mouth curled at the corners as Dean's theme revisited his mind and found himself glad Joshua disapproved of him. If the guy didn't, then it would mean he had changed, become more like the calloused man Joshua had become and he didn't want that.

"You think he'll do what we want?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, believe it or not, I do," Dean answered. "He's rough as hell, but he wants to do right by us, by Dad. He'll wait."

"I hope so," Sam offered hoping that he and his brother's faith were not misplaced.

TBC

Thanks again to all for your wonderful and gracious reviews! You continue to inspire me and I look forward to hearing from all of you!! Rachelly


	22. Steppin' Out

Chapter 22

"Try to push me back," Dean coached as he held his brothers leg by the calf, knee bent, foot pressed against his chest.

Sam fisted the blankets of the bed he was laying on and pushed with all of his might. Dean's body didn't move, though he did tense his muscles some to hold his position.

"Tell me when to brace myself," Dean teased.

Sam frowned and pushed harder. The muscles in his leg started to complain.

"Not too bad," Dean taunted. "Imagine what you could do if you tried."

Sam snorted. "I am trying."

"Oh, you are?" Dean mocked with a twinkle in his eyes and he leaned harder against his brother's leg.

Sam rolled his eyes and strained to match his brother's increased pressure. "You're a jerk"

"Yeah, well, I was born that way, what's your excuse?" Dean quipped back .

Bobby suddenly appeared at the door with a water bottle for Sam. He placed it on the nightstand beside Sam's bed, returned to the doorway and crossed his arms watching for a while.

"So where's mine?" Dean asked as he increased his pressure against Sam's leg once again.

Sam struggled to keep his brother back and not lose his position.

" What am I? Your personal waiter? Water's in the tap. Go get it yourself," Bobby snapped and turned to Sam. He winked at Sam and pointed out into the hallway. Sam glanced in that direction and noticed a second bottle sitting on the floor just out of his brother's sight.

Dean mocked Bobby behind his back, mouthing his words, when Bobby turned to Sam to gloat over his comment. Bobby quickly turned back when he saw exaggerated movements in his peripheral vision, but Dean had already straightened his features and looked at the suspicious man innocently.

Sam whispered a laugh and lost his counter pressure and Dean pushed his knee down to his chest.

"I won," Dean declared.

"Doesn't count. You cheated. You made me laugh," Sam complained.

"It so does counts! You lost, little brother. You owe me two more!"

"Dean," Sam complained again.

"Two, Sammy. Count them…one …two!" Dean taunted.

Sam shook his head.

"What's the wager?" Bobby asked curiously.

"What's always the wager," Sam answered disgustedly. "My humiliation."

"S'right, Sammy boy!" Dean jested gloriously thrilled at his victory.

Bobby looked curiously at Sam for an explanation.

Dean looked over at his brother eager to hear him explain.

"Servitude. I have to do whatever he tells me to," Sam uttered with an embarrassed pout.

Dean nodded with great pleasure.

"Oh, is that right," Bobby declared giving Dean an evil look. "Taking advantage of our down and out little brother, are we?"

Dean's face turned from pleasure to pain as he felt Bobby's chastisement followed by a twinge of guilt. "I was trying to motivate him," he explained trying to justify his actions.

"By making him slave for you when he gets better," Bobby clarified. "How does that work?"

"Yes…Well, no. Well…it will be good for him," Dean explained with a crooked smile.

Bobby shook his head.

"What?" he questioned Bobby's disapproval defensively. " Sam needs to use his muscles to strengthen them, right? So waxing the Impala, doing her windows, oiling her seats, keeping her tires inflated and her dash dust free…"

"It's the car….always about the car," Sam sighed rolling his eyes. He looked to Bobby for sympathy.

"She needs attention, they all do," Dean declared defensively

"Are we talking about women or cars," Bobby asked.

"Is there a difference?" Dean innocently questioned.

Sam snorted. "Apparently not in your mess up mind," he quipped sarcastically.

"Don't be jealous, Sammy. It doesn't become you," Dean corrected in a 'girlish' kind of way.

"You're impossible."

"Impossible or not, you owe me two!"

Sam snorted. All his arguing had gotten him nothing.

Sam reached over and grabbed the water bottle that Bobby had graciously brought for him, smiled obnoxiously, and chugged the cool refreshing liquid, wiped his mouth and said, "Ah" in the most dramatic way he could.

Dean scowled as his brother flaunted Bobby's favoritism. Listening to his brother slurp suddenly made him really thirsty.

"S'cruel, man, just cruel," Dean complained to both hunters before him.

"Oh and enslaving your brother isn't," Bobby questioned. "Give him back the last two and I might go get you some water."

Dean paused to consider the deal. He knew he could easily earn them back and he was thirsty. "Yeah, okay."

"Deal?" Bobby asked wanting to be sure the young man wasn't playing any word games with him.

"Deal, but I want the water to be cold, with two, no, make it three ice cubes preferably in a water bottle rather than a glass and…."

"And you'll take it the way I serve it!" Bobby growled.

"Yeah, that's what I was saying," Dean agreed, fearing he might sabotage the deal if he didn't.

Bobby smiled at Sam and went to the bedroom door. He leaned around the corner, grabbed the sweating bottle, and presented it to Dean with a smart ass grin smeared all over his face.

"Cute," Dean hissed as he realized Bobby had been messing with him. "Your salary?…Consider it cut in half," he quipped then guzzled the refreshing liquid.

"Half of nothing is still nothing and pretty soon that's all you'll be getting from me, smart ass," Bobby grumbled playfully.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean muttered as he snapped the lid back on and tossed the bottle on the bed.

"Let's go again," Dean directed as he gestured for Sam to raise his leg and place his foot on his chest.

Sam obliged and raised his limb, bending it at the knee.

Dean took his brother's leg in his hands and positioned it comfortably on his chest again and the two began to create their balanced counter pressures.

After a minute, Dean began to lean in towards his brother increasing the force on his leg, requiring Sam to work harder to keep him back.

Sam's knee began to shake and Dean could feel the limb losing its strength, threatening to give out.

"C'mon, Sammy push."

Sam grunted as he tried to move his brother's body back. He could hold his own, but couldn't overcome his brother's pressure enough to move him away. Sweat began to bead on his tensed face.

"Push, Sam, push," Dean coached.

"Sounds like someone's having a baby,' Bobby teased

Dean laughed at Bobby's comment.

"Fee-els like I'm hav-ving one," Sam replied as he continued to struggle to push Dean's chest away.

"Concentrate, kiddo," Dean added this time keeping the pressure steady instead of increasing it. He feared Sam was about to give in and wanted his brother to experience some success today.

Sam pushed until his limb no longer seemed capable of maintaining its force. He was sure it would give out and he chose to release his leg and pull it back to his chest.

Sam frowned and looked away avoiding eye contact with Dean. He waited in dread for his brother's bold declaration of a 'win'.

Dean didn't declare a victory or even chalk up Sam's loss as his gain. Instead, he remained quiet, disappointed Sam had released his leg. He was sure Sam had the physical strength to push him back but lacked the will power to go for it. A huge part of strength training lies in sheer determination and the belief that you can reach your goals. His little brother's body was able, but his mind just didn't believe it.

Dean looked at Sam's downcast face, sighed and grabbed his water bottle for another swig.

Sam grabbed the water bottle and guzzled the cool refreshing liquid. He wiped his mouth and his forehead and returned it to his nightstand.

"Thanks, Bobby," he replied with a touch of disappointment in his voice.

Bobby nodded, appreciative of Sam's politeness. "No problem," the older hunter replied as he eyed Sam and Dean. He saw Sam's retreat and the disappointment it produced for Dean and his heart went out to them both.

"Keep up the good work, boys. You're making progress," he encouraged wondering if his words were falling on deaf ears.

Dean nodded. Sam had made good progress, in fact, he'd made exceptional progress. The fact that he could balance the force Dean had pushed up against him with his injured leg was commendable. Still, Dean knew he was capable of even more and that he had to push to get his little brother to discover that truth as well.

"Let's go again," Dean said as he slapped his brother's leg and gestured for Sam to put the flat of his foot on his chest again.

"Maybe later, Dean," Sam responded. His leg was starting to ache and he didn't see the point of Dean pushing any more today. He couldn't move his brother before, there was no way his tired leg could do any better now.

'One more time, Sam, c'mon," Dean pushed holding his hands out beckoning for his brother to comply. While his words were encouraging Sam to try, his demeanor dared him to.

Sam sighed. Unable to resist the challenge, he obliged. "Okay, but don't get frustrated with me when I can't do it."

"Sammy, I'm hurt. You think I would get frustrated with you?" Dean whimpered melodramatically.

"Yes" Sam stated flatly.

"I swear, I won't get frustrated. I promise," Dean assured his little brother as he gestured for his brother to give it a go.

Sam looked suspiciously at Dean.

"I might beat the crap out of you, but I promise I won't get frustrated," he quickly added with a playful smile as he gestured once again for his brother to put his foot up.

Sam placed his foot on his brother's chest and began to push. Dean countered. The two brothers held their ground, neither one moved from his position or let up.

Sam's face strained along with his leg muscles.

"That's it, Sammy. Keep it coming," Dean encouraged. "You can do it. A little longer."

"Eeeasy for you to saaaay," Sam strained out between clenched teeth.

"Now push me back," Dean coached when he saw Sam's leg was starting to shake from the effort. He wanted his brother to try before his leg gave out again.

Sam took a deep breath and pushed.

"C'mon Sammy, push"

"I aaam pushing," Sam grunted as he struggled to extend his leg out straight. His body shook with the intensity of his effort.

"Yeah, like a girl. C'mon, man, give me a shove!" Dean ordered.

Sam stiffened his lips and focused all of his energies on his bent leg and forced it outward with an astounding force.

Dean, not expecting much of a change, suddenly found himself mid air as he flew backwards off the end of the bed. His arms flailed in a hopeless attempt to regain his balance or at least soften his fall. Unfortunately, gravity had no pity on the downward falling Winchester.

With a huge clatter and a thud, Dean landed on the floor by the dresser. Various items that had been tossed there fell on top of him, having been knocked off by his thrashing limbs on the way down.

Bobby roared with laughter at the look on Dean's face. It was wonderful for him to see the kid finally get what was coming to him.

"How's that," Sam questioned with a cocky smile as his mocking brother lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"S'good, …," the somewhat stunned trainer quipped as he picked himself up off the floor and rotated his arm to loosen the stiffness in his shoulder. "At least for a start…" he added trying to save face.

"You okay?" Sam asked half concerned and half amused. "I didn't hurt you or anything, did I," he mocked pleased with himself for what he accomplished and for putting Dean's sarcastic mouth in its place.

"M'good," Dean muttered.

Truth was he was great. His brother had been successful. He had let go of the limitations he'd set on himself and reached out with passion. Now, Sam could accomplish anything.

"Subtract two!" Sam announced. "Count 'em..one…two," he mocked with a Cheshire Cat grin as he looked over at Bobby to share his sentiments.

"Let's see, fifty four minus two is……" Dean paused trying to get his brother to fill in the missing number and put him back in his place.

Sam refused to answer.

"FIFTY TWO, you still owe me, little brother try counting that," Dean announced trying to take the wind out of Sam's overly enthusiastic sails.

"Should we do it again?" Sam quipped inspired by his brother's tumble. "I could go a little easier on you if you need me to." He just couldn't resist rubbing it in.

"No, that's okay. I wouldn't want you to overexert yourself," Dean mumbled checking the back of his head for bumps.

The boys' playful banter was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

Bobby moved to answer it. The boys listened to the one sided conversation and tried to fill in the missing pieces.

"Yeah?"

"When?" he questioned looking at Dean with alarm. Dean shifted nervously and glanced over at Sam who was intently watching Bobby.

"What about Bracken?" the hunter's tense voice questioned.

"Damn it! You were supposed to keep an eye on him!" Bobby stated accusingly.

Sam looked nervously over at Dean who was toting a worried look as well.

When Dean saw his little brother's anxious eyes searching his, he offered a slight reassuring smile.

"What about Daniel's Den? One of the hunter's there might know something."

"Aw,c'mon!" Bobby declared in disgust. "Somebody has to have seen or heard from him."

Bobby held the phone away from his ear. Joshua's booming voice reached the brother's ears and it was obvious by his tone, he was furious.

"No, I'm not saying you aren't busting your ass, but he couldn't have just disappeared!" Bobby complained.

Dean was beginning to put the pieces together and the picture they were creating was frightening.

"So what do we do?"

Sam's brows rose as he waited breathlessly for some indication that there was something they could do.

"Keep us posted," the disturbed hunter insisted.

Bobby hung up the phone, wiped his hand across his mouth, and scratched his beard. He looked up at Sam and Dean and frowned, wishing he had better news.

The Winchester brothers stared in silence waiting.

"Derek's out of jail," he announced regrettably.

He quickly studied the boys, reactions, worried about how they'd take the news.

"What!" Dean exclaimed in shock having not seen that one coming. He glanced over at Sam to gage his reaction. Sam looked shaken and Dean worried the news might send him into a downward spiral.

"Did he escape?" Sam's shaky voice asked figuring it was the hunter's most likely way to get out of jail.

"No. He was bailed out," Bobby stated disgustedly.

"How the hell does a man charged with armed robbery and attempted murderer get released on bail?" Dean paused. "Who the hell bailed him out?" he asked suddenly fearing he already knew the answer.

The older hunter hesitated knowing Dean would definitely not like the next part.

"Bracken," Bobby finally announced.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed as he placed his two hands on top of his head, elbows out, and turned around facing the wall to think. Fear crept up inside of the horrified hunter as he realized the two hunters had not only teamed up, but were now on the move with a common cause…to kill Sam.

Sam studied his brother's movements as his chest tightened with anxiety. His greatest fear was being realized, that he might be facing another lynching mob in the near future, and he felt extremely vulnerable. Dean's anxiety offered little comfort. If anything it validated his fears and the little brother in him wanted so badly for his brother to tell him he there was nothing to worry about even if it weren't true.

Dean paced a few feet towards the wall and turned around. Sam's worried, vulnerable eyes met his and Dean could tell his brother needed him to offer some hope.

"Any idea where are they now?" Dean asked trying to calm himself down for Sam's sake and figure out their next move. "Do we need to leave?"

"No, Joshua said sit tight," Bobby answered. "He has no reason to believe our location is known. He'll check with local hunters and hit some of the hunter hang outs to see if anyone has heard anything, but he's got to be careful. He doesn't want to perk anyone else's curiosity."

"That's all we need….more hunters involved," Dean muttered.

"Joshua said he'll call as soon as he finds anything," Bobby finally concluded having updated the boys on everything that had been said.

Bobby turned to Sam knowing the youngest Winchester had to be troubled. "He's a damn good tracker and an excellent hunter, so I'm sure we'll know something soon."

He paused for a minute and then addressed both brothers, "Sorry, boys. I know this isn't the news we were expecting."

Dean wiped his hand across his face and looked at Sam to gage his reaction. Sam looked distressed, but not undone. The kid was holding his own.

Sam sensed Dean was reading him and wanted to move on to a solution. "So what do we do?" Sam asked his older brother hoping he might have an idea of a plan.

"We sit tight and get you back in shape," Dean announced wanting Sam to know he was confident he would be back in shape soon.

"After that?" Sam questioned sincerely, feeling an ominous doom lingering in his near future.

"We go after the sons of bitches before they come after you," Dean answered a bit more harshly than he intended. He actually felt that way, but hadn't intended on letting Sam know how rattled he was about the news.

Sam frowned. "No killing, remember? At least not unless I say so."

Dean nodded, but knew if it came down to it he'd do what he needed to and trust his brother would forgive him.

"You guys hungry?" Bobby finally questioned trying to move on to a slightly more positive conversation. He was amazed at how much the guys could eat and how often.

"Yeah, but I'll fix it, Bobby," Dean offered.

"No, you guys finish your routine. I'll let you know when it's ready."

The brothers nodded and Bobby left for the kitchen.

Dean turned to check on Sam again. He smiled when he found his brother eyeing him back.

"You good?" Sam asked knowing how the news had probably affected Dean.

"Yeah, you?" Dean volleyed back.

Sam frowned. He didn't want the abbreviated version of Dean's thoughts, he wanted his brother to open up.

"Oh, right, girl talk, uh, I'm okay but not really thrilled to hear that Derek and his buddy are…uh…on the loose. How's that?"

"Better, thank you," Sam replied with a smile.

"And you?"

"I think I'm okay. Scared, but okay," Sam honestly reported.

"I'm not gonna let them lay a hand on you, you know that right?" Dean asked with a promise in his heart that he'd kill the bastards before he'd allow anything more to happen to Sam.

Sam nodded nervously. "I just don't want to relive the roadhouse, you know."

"You won't. I promise. Me and Bobby won't let that happen."

"or the hospital"

"Never again"

"Or the motel?" Sam added with a question in his tone. He was amused by his brother's bravado and curious what he would say.

"Okay, so we've had some bad luck, but the first time we were caught off guard and badly out numbered. The second time we were out in the open where Gordon and his gang had an easy shot at us. This last time was only cuz the sharpshooter knew our location. We're on it this time and our location is secure. And besides, neither Derek nor Bracken seem with it. Bracken's a conspiracy freak, for god sake and we both know they're all a bit nuts."

Sam laughed cuz in a way he and his brother were buying their own conspiracy theory only they were the good guys trying to undo the demon' conspiracy which they still had no idea exactly what it was. He didn't say anything cuz he knew his brother would see it differently.

"Well?" Dean asked wanting to know if his brother had heard and agreed with his thinking.

Sam nodded. He actually was feeling encouraged. Dean was right. All three had been unusual circumstances and were laced with them being disadvantaged. In this case, they had an advantage…their position was only known to four people. On top of that, Sam was no longer an invalid. He'd just tossed his brother across the room with his bad leg and was encouraged that he could eventually hold his own if he had to against two hunters. He only hoped they didn't gather more support.

"You ready to walk the halls?" Dean asked wanting to finish up their routine.

"Yeah, but I can do it on my own."

"Okay, I won't shadow this time, but I want you to do ten knee bends at the end of each lap."

"Sure, Dr. Tormento, anything else?"

"I'll give it some thought," Dean quipped back as his brother got up and headed out into the hallway to began his workout.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam stirred when he felt an unusual sensation on his nose. As he reached up his hand to check it out he became aware of the strong smell of…….peanut butter? His fingers slid across the gooey substance and his eyes flew open. Dean's voice bellowed out in laughter, shattering the quiet silence that had once surrounded him.

Sam pulled his hand out in front of his face and examined his fingers. Sure enough, they were smudged in the creamy, peanut buttery stuff.

"Ha Ha. Very funny," Sam grumbled sarcastically as he reached for a tissue to clean up the mess his brother had obnoxiously smeared on his nose and cheeks while he was sleeping. "You need to get a life."

"Already got one," Dean answered from across the room as he leaned on the dresser. His arms were folded in front of his chest, his ankles crossed, and a pleased as hell smile covering his face.

"Seriously, man, you need to get out. You're clearly getting cabin fever."

"Never felt better in my life, little brother," Dean cheerily explained.

"Has there been any good news that I haven't heard yet," Sam asked confused by his brother's good humor.

"Nope," Dean disappointingly answered. "Well, except that it's ten o'clock and time for your workout."

Sam nodded. Dean always did perk up when it came time for him to torture Sam.

Dean tossed a wet washcloth at his brother's face. The wet thing slapped against Sam's face and splattered water droplets everywhere. "Clean up and we'll get started," he directed.

Sam removed the dripping, overly soaked cloth, stared at his brother with annoyance painted all over his peanut buttered face and shook his head. As much as he hated his brother for his torture, he was somewhat glad he could wipe the mess off. The smell was starting to sicken him.

"C'mon, get up," Dean bugged as he waited for his brother to wipe every last smudge off. "Just lick the rest off," he suggested. I want twenty laps, ten knee bends at each end, break neck pace," Dean ordered out with a clap wanting to get his brother's morning warm ups going.

"I'm taking a shower first," Sam declared defiantly.

"Nobody showers before exercising, Sammy. It's….it's….not normal," he finally eeked out finding no good reason for him to insist his brother exercise first.

"Yeah? Well, I don't exercise to the smell of peanut butter."

Dean frowned. "Stubborn"

"Gee, where did I learn that from," Sam grumbled back as he grabbed his gear and headed to the bathroom for a shower."

"Okay, fine, but it's gonna cost ya!" Dean threatened from the opposite side of the slammed bathroom door.

Sam knew his brother would probably double his laps, but he didn't care. The thought of doing laps down the same hall for another day was unbearable. If he could post pone the task even for twenty minutes, it was worth the price and he hoped maybe, this time, he could talk his over protective brother into exercising outside for a change. He'd tried several times before, but Dean simply wouldn't hear it.

oooOOOooo

Sam emerged from the shower, clean, dressed and refreshed thrilled to have the smell of peanut butter finally gone although he swore he could still smell the stuff even after scrubbing his face to remove it all. When he opened the door he was immediately greeted by his overly eager brother.

"Let's see…twenty laps doubled would be forty." Dean paused as if he was checking the math.

Sam pushed past him and went into the bedroom to comb his wet hair. Dean followed behind.

"I'll cut you a break and only require the ten knee bends. Oh, and the laps…break neck pace….squared!"

"Fine," Sam declared as he shoved his comb in his back pocket. "But we do it outside."

"No."

Sam threw his laundry on the bed, turned around and looked at Dean with defiance in his eyes.

Dean was getting used to the look. Sam had been throwing it in his direction more frequently. Sam wanted to work outside with Dean, to actually jog to somewhere rather than remain inside, but Dean wouldn't hear of it and Sam had a pretty good idea why. Joshua's comment though spoken weeks earlier had played on his older brother's fear, the fear losing his kid brother so Dean was not taking any chances.

"C'mon, man. I'm going nuts here. I need to get out!" Sam blurted out as he exited the bedroom and headed for the door. Though his display was somewhat for himself, it was mostly for Dean. Sam knew the only way to get Dean to budge was to make it an emotional issue that involved Sam's well being.

Apart from his concern for Dean, Sam also wanted to return to his position beside his brother as an equal, not a fragile thing that his brother couldn't count on and had to protect all the time. Sam needed a sense of normalcy and he knew Dean needed it too, though his brother would never admit it.

His absolute insistence of keeping Sam inside was hard on Sam, but he could see it was perpetuating Dean's fears. Fears Dean needed to overcome or he remain forever crippled by.

Dean immediately grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him back placing himself between his younger brother and the apartment door. Dean eyed his brother surprised at his strong show of emotion.

"No, Sam. We stay in here until we know for sure it's safe!" Dean insisted expecting Sam to fall in line.

"Damn it, Dean. I'm sick of walking hallways! Sick of this stupid bedroom, this dumb apartment. I just want to get out! Just for a little bit! You and me. Please!"

Dean frowned. His head and his heart just couldn't reconcile over this issue that kept raising its ugly head. If he took Sam out, he could be placing Sam in physical danger. If he didn't take him out, he was threatening Sam's emotional well being.

"What do you want me to say, Sam? Sure go out and we'll hope it's safe? Let's take a chance that Derek and his partner aren't out there waiting for you? I'm not into Russian Roulette!"

"How about let's go out and be smart about it! We'll take our weapons, keep our eyes out, but at least we'll be out. I shouldn't stop living just cuz someone might be hunting me and neither should you!" Sam blurted out. He flinched nervously when he'd realized he'd made his real reason known.

"Is that what this is about? Me? You think I wouldn't gladly give up being outside to protect you? Hell, Sam, I'd live in a box if it kept you alive!" Dean stated adamantly. His body shook with emotion.

"Don't you see, Dean. We are living in a box! Hell, we aren't even living it the damn thing…we're surviving!"

The word hit Dean like a piano falling out of a second story window, practically flattening him to the floor.

"Damn, Sammy," Dean sighed. " I didn't….I mean, I wasn't…"

"I know you mean well, Dean," Sam gently affirmed, "but I need, we need , to get out, to live…just for a bit, please," Sam softly pleaded.

Dean bit his lip and took a deep breath. "Okay, but we take…"

"..our weapons and we be smart about it," Sam finished.

"You think you're up to getting out?" Dean asked hoping maybe he could get Sam to postpone until later…give him a chance to work up to the whole idea.

"Yes"

Dean paused recognizing there was no out.

"Alright, let's do it," Dean announced as he headed back to the bedroom to gather their weapons.

Sam followed, pleased with his victory.

Dean tossed Sam his piece and grabbed a hold of his own.

Both boys checked their ammo, readied their guns, and made their way out to the living room.

As they headed towards the front door, Bobby poked his head out of the kitchen, surprised at what he was seeing. He'd heard most of the conversation and had stayed as far away as he could to allow the brother's to work it through with some sense of privacy. Even though he'd heard Dean agree to go out, he knew the kid's fear of losing his brother was huge and he had thought that he might have changed his mind.

"We going somewhere?"

"Out," the brothers said in unison as they finished tucking in their weapons and opened the door. It shut quickly behind them.

"Out it is," Bobby muttered to himself with a smile, pleased to see the brother's taking a shot at life.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam and Dean cruised around for a while.

The Impala's black leather seats felt good beneath Dean, the purr of her engine was music to his ears, the feel of her wheel in his hands gave him a sense of control he had been sorely missing. Having his little brother riding shotgun again was probably the highlight of the moment.

Sam just sat back, enjoying his brother's delight, and the sight and sounds of the world around him. He knew Dean needed to get out and even more that his brother needed to deal with the time bomb Joshua had dropped on him. Ever since Joshua's comment, he noticed this brother's over protectiveness and he knew that if they didn't deal with it, things would never return to normal and he wanted normal more than anything right now. He waited until he spotted his target and opened his mouth to make his request.

"Hey Dean? Pull over."

Dean's demeanor suddenly changed. "Why? What's wrong? You see something?" he anxiously called out as he spun his wheel and pulled over immediately. He slammed on his break, whipped out his gun and looked to his brother for further directions.

Sam had known Dean was on edge, but didn't realize how much.

"Dude, it's nothing like that. Put that thing away," Sam instructed.

Dean tucked his gun away quickly. "What is it then? Are you feeling okay? Weak maybe? Should I take you back?"

"Dean!"

Dean silenced and waited for his brother's explanation.

"I'm hungry. I just want to grab a little something, that's all," Sam explained hoping his brother wouldn't have a heart attack when he added the details to his request.

"You're hungry?" Dean repeated in his _that's all_ kind of way.

"Yeah, it happens you know?" Sam looked at Dean's blank expression. " ….about two or three times a day? …. for me anyways," Sam added waiting for a reaction from Dean.

"Oh, yeah sure, Sammy. I'll hit a drive-thru."

"Actually, I'll just go grab something in there," Sam explained as he pointed to the corner market that sat diagonal from their position.

Dean's eyes followed Sam's finger and landed on the Mini Mart that lay not ten yards from where he sat. His pupils increased in size and darkened.

"No. No way, Sam," Dean declared as the image of Sam's brains exploding across the chip aisle flashed through his mind. Dean checked in his rear view mirror and signaled to get back on the street and as far away as his baby would take him.

Sam reached over and grabbed his wheel, forcing it to stay straight.

"Dean, wait."

"No, Sam, it's not gonna happen!" he insisted as he once again checked for traffic. "Now let go of the damn wheel."

"No," Sam stated flatly.

"Damn it, Sam, let go of the freakin wheel! Now!"

Sam shifted nervously, but remained determined. He released his hand and popped open his door. It swung out over the sidewalk and Sam placed his leg just outside the car.

Dean turned back to look at his defiant brother. "Get in the car, Sam. I mean it! Get in the damn car!"

"Dean, listen to me," Sam begged trying to get his brother to understand.

"I swear to god if you don't get back in the car I will throw your scrawny ass in myself, drag you back and never let you out of that stinkin apartment ever again!"

"No, Dean," Sam whispered softly refusing to comply.

"Why the hell not?" Dean questioned confused, angered, and frightened as he glanced up and down the sidewalk looking for anyone who might cause his brother harm.

"I need you to listen to me for a minute," Sam stated more as a plea than a demand.

"Listen to what?!" Dean asked trying to figure out what was so important to his brother that he would defy him so adamantly.

"Ever since Joshua mentioned the whole Mini Mart thing you've been on edge. Now I'm not saying it's a bad thing or that it's wrong, hell, I'm even on edge about it too."

"What's your point?" Dean asked having to agree with his brother though not willing to admit it.

"We need to face this thing before it destroys us. This living in fear of what might happen is sucking the life out of me and I can tell it's doing the same thing to you."

"Sam, we have good reason to be afraid, hell, we'd be stupid not to be."

"Cautious, yes, afraid, no, Dean. Dad taught us there are two kinds of fear. The kind that kicks up your adrenaline, makes you alert and gives you what you need to act fast and the kind that paralyzes you. We need to be on the alert, yes, but paralyzed no!"

Dean sat silently thinking through what his brother was saying. In his head he knew Sam was right, but in his heart, his fear of losing Sam was paralyzing.

"Now I'm gonna go across the street and into that Mini Mart and buy a bag of chips and a soda, one for you and one for me. You can come with me or wait out here."

Sam stepped out of the car and closed the door.

Dean shook his head and stiffened his lip. He knew there was nothing he could do to deter Sam and he wasn't about to let his brother be a walking target by himself.

"Aw, hell!" Dean spat and opened his door. He slammed it shut and looked across the hood at his determined younger brother.

Sam nodded, pleased that Dean was on board. He knew that it was Dean that needed to do this more than himself and he was determined to help his brother no matter what the cost.

"Alright, fine," Dean agreed, but you let me go in first and then I'll switch and shadow you from behind. I want you between the back wall and me at all times. You stay away from the window."

"No, Dean. I'm gonna walk in and you're gonna wait back by the door. I'm gonna choose the food, pay for it and leave with you right beside me. You're not my shield or my body guard, Dean. You're my brother."

Dean sighed. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he whispered almost affectionately.

Sam nodded. "You've told me before," he replied with a slight smile. "Are we good?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but could you buy some cookies or a hotdog and forget about the chips?"

Sam laughed as he crossed in front of the Impala and joined his brother to cross the street. "Would defeat the point, don't you think?"

Dean nodded awkwardly and handed Sam a twenty. It was a good faith offering and Sam accepted it with a smile. Then Dean quickly glanced around him refusing to throw caution to the wind. He was relieved when he found nothing of concern.

The two brothers crossed the street and entered the store. Dean took up his position at the front door as requested; Sam searched the aisles for the potato chips.

Dean glanced out the window every few seconds and shifted nervously.

The guy behind the counter eyed him suspiciously as Dean held his place nervously watching and waiting, then glanced over at Sam who seemed to be aimlessly wandering the aisles. Sam's periodic glances to his brother and the cashier who keep staring at him began to unnerve the guy, but it was when Sam began to perusing every chip bag in the place slowly and methodically that the guy started to panic. His heart began to beat rapidly as he began to wonder if the two were planning a robbery. The skinny man looked anxiously back at Dean.

Dean smiled at the guy and rocked back and forth on his feet. He detected the cashier's nervousness and glanced around the store trying to figure out what he was concerned about. The place was empty and Dean quickly figured out, it was he and his brother that were distressing the guy.

Sam, finally having found the bag of chips he wanted, turned and held it up to show his brother. He over exaggerated his movements trying to point out that everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

Dean was not so sure. He smiled at the cashier, reached for his wallet and deliberately pulled out a twenty so the guy would realize he and Sam weren't there for the money. His heart began to thump loudly in his chest as he began to wonder if the guy had a gun under the counter.

Sam continued up the chip aisle completely unaware of his brother's building anxiety and opened the refrigerated door to grab two cans of Pepsi. Dean decided not to move for fear he'd trigger a panic in the young cashier's brain. He deliberately called out to his brother.

"Hey, Sammy, you need money, little brother? Cuz I got a couple of twenties here if you need them." Dean smiled at the cashier again hoping he'd made his point.

Sam looked at Dean like he was a moron, closed the glass door and moved up to the counter.

The drastically perspiring cashier watched as Sam laid the chips and two soda cans on the counter and slid the twenty Dean had given him just a few minutes earlier beside them.

The kid pushed Sam's money and food back to him. "It's on the house, just go."

Sam thought he had misunderstood the guy. "What?"

"You heard the guy, Sam, let's go," Dean coached eager to get the hell out of the place before the guy who looked like he was about to wet himself did something stupid like pull out a gun and shoot his brother.

"No, Dean, I need to pay," Sam honestly insisted and pushed the money back to the 'now shaking like a leaf on a twig in a hurricane' kid.

"You want to pay, fine!" the kid spat. He grabbed the twenty and threw a ten and a five back at Sam. He didn't total anything and he stood back against the back wall.

Sam just eyed the kid, shrugged, and took the ten, leaving the five as a tip. He figured the kid looked like he needed a tip and it was Dean's money anyways. He turned to his brother who shook his head towards the door as if telling Sam to hurry it up. The two left the store practically popping out onto the sidewalk.

Sam looked at Dean. "See, I told you. Nothing to it. No gunshot. No shattered windows. No me dead in the chip aisle. Piece of cake."

Dean shook his head and took a deep break. He'd had enough 'pieces of cake' for one day. "Alright, you made your point…kind of…now get back in the car and let's get going."

The brothers crossed the street after Dean stuck his hand out to stop his distracted chip eating brother from getting clipped by minivan just as they stepped off the curb.

They opened the door of the Impala and slid into the seats. Sam tossed Dean his soda and offered him the bag of chips.

Dean's stomach was too worked up for him to eat anything at the moment. Sam was smiling, glad he had helped his big brother over a major hurdle; Dean was smiling they were heading home to the safety of the apartment.

**oooOOOooo**

The door sung open and Bobby watched as the parade of Winchesters made their way in. First up was an exhausted Sam Winchester who sauntered through the doorway and flopped on the sofa with an empty chip bag and a crushed soda can in his hand. Dean followed close behind, bobbing like a giant parade balloon. He shut the door and deflated into a chair near the door with a heavy sigh.

"Well?" Bobby asked as he muted the football game he was watching. He was getting mixed signals from the boys and he wanted to give them his full attention.

"Fantastic," Sam said highly encouraged.

"That's one way to describe it," Dean uttered glad it was over as he sunk deeper in his chair.

"What?" Sam questioned in surprise. " Tell me that wasn't great! Walking in, walking out, no problem whatsoever."

"Yeah, no problem," Dean echoed rolling his eyes amazed at how blind his little brother could be….or how paranoid he had become himself.

"The cashier was so nice he even offered to treat," Sam explained to Bobby before turning to Dean. " Man, what was with that guy, though? Looked like he'd seen a ghost or something," Sam asked his still preoccupied brother.

"Or something," Dean echoed wondering how close they had actually come to being shot or arrested.

"What are you, my echo?" Sam asked eyeing Dean suspiciously. "Man , you've been acting weird ever since we left the store. What gives?"

Dean looked at Bobby and back to Sam. He decided not to tip his hand. Sam had considered today a victory and he didn't have the heart to take that away from him and in a way it had been. His little brother had made it out and back in one piece and for that he was grateful.

"Nothing, just tired is all," Dean answered. He finished his soda and tossed it into the trash can.

Bobby eyed Dean, sensing that something more was going on, but he respected the game face Dean was wearing and figured he could approach the young man later if he looked like he wanted to talk.

Bobby un-muted the TV and the three hunters settled down to watch the game.

Shortly after, the family friend offered to run out for pizza and beer. He figured the boys could use some normal 'guy' time, and pizza, beer, and a football game seemed to be the perfect choice.

TBC

Thanks for reading! Would love to hear from you…so take a minute and review. (I know, I know…poetry really isn't my thing!) Giggles --Rachelly

Coming Up!

Sam's eyes grew wide as he realized he was being placed on trial for the deaths of the lynching mob. He shook his head and tried to speak, but his words were too stifled to understand behind the unyielding tape that sealed them in.


	23. Sacrifice

Chapter 23

The squeak of metal being turned.

The sudden flow of cold water.

The manipulation of handles to accomplish steam.

A fogged mirror

A steamy, cloud-like mist.

_Perfect!_

Dean dropped his towel and stepped into the steaming hot shower as if entering a mysterious world where sight was practically useless and all other senses were lavishly stimulated. The overly heated water felt amazing as it rained down on his weary head and stiff shoulders, ran down his muscular back and legs, and pooled around his feet before swirling around the drain and disappearing somewhere beneath the floor. The rhythmic drumming of the water as it tapped against the tub and the sensation of being hugged by the deep, penetrating warmth, both soothed and relaxed him.

Though it seemed like only a physical cleansing was taking place, there was also an emotional aspect to the ritual as well. The eldest Winchester was not only allowing his salty perspiration to wash away, but his emotional cares of the day, or at least the moment, along with it.

This little oasis in time offered the weary hunter peace. For thirty minutes it seemed like there was no world to manage and no demons to fight, well except those that lingered in his mind, but even they seemed somehow farther away. Not even the threat of hunters harming his little brother seemed to follow him behind the shower curtain that hung as a veil separating him from the world that lay beyond it. It was just him, the hot water, and his imagination.

He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift……to the Grand Canyon, to Lindsey Lohan, to Lindsey Lohan in the Grand Canyon….at night. The hunter managed a smile as he considered what he and she could do under a moonlit sky.

After lingering for a bit, soaking up the peacefulness of the soothing hot waterfall and enjoying his imagined fantasy, he grabbed the bar of soap that had practically glued itself to the ceramic holder and started lathering up. He continued to allow his mind to bathe in his imagination.

_Thump, thump, thump_

A loud, hollow pounding noise suddenly interrupted the peacefulness of his shower. The annoying thumps were soon followed by muffled mumblings.

"Hmm, Deamm?"

Dean recognized his brother's voice as he knocked loudly from the opposite side of the bathroom door, but he couldn't make out his words nor did he really want to. Having been cooped up for the past…however many weeks in the tiny apartment, this was his only "alone" time and he was not willing to give it up.

He chose to remain quiet, pretending not to hear, in the hopes that his interrupting little brother would give up and go away, leaving he and Lindsey to continue with their little rendezvous in his mind.

_Thump. Thump. Thump, thump, thump, thump!_

"Deam!"

After hearing the second barrage of loud wallops, Dean knew he would have no such luck. He rolled his eyes as the image of he and Lindsey making out under the starlit sky dissipated with each thud.

"What!" Dean called back slightly irritated.

"Hmm lomm did Bombby samm hee'd bemmm oum?," his brother mumbled.

Dean could barely hear Sam's voice, let alone make out his words over the thundering sound of the water as it pummeled the tub before making its way down the drain.

"I can't hear you, Sammy," he called back letting his brother know it was pointless for him to keep talking.

"Hmmmm…. lomm…. did…… Bombby……. sammm….. hemmm……. bemmm….. oum?" the mumbling voice repeated slowly, over emphasizing each word loudly.

Having absolutely no clue as to what his inarticulate brother was saying, and knowing that there was little hope to return to that peaceful oasis he had been so deeply enjoying, Dean sighed heavily.

"Hold on. I'll be out in a minute," the disappointed hunter announced.

"Wmmmm hummm um abmmm."

"I said I'll be out in a minute!" Dean reiterated. He stood still waiting for his brother's response as he held the shampoo bottle in his hand preparing to pour the liquid out and lather his hair.

Sam frowned and walked away finding it frustrating to have to wait another minute.

"Okay?" the older sibling called. He waited for a response from his little brother so he could continue his shampooing ritual.

Sam didn't answer because he was already in the bedroom looking for his cell phone to try to reach Bobby again.

"Sam?" Dean called again now standing with his head around the shower curtain straining to hear his brother's confirmation.

When his brother didn't answer him again, the world beyond the shower curtain rushed him and he felt a prick of anxiety. Sam's tone hadn't sounded distressed, but with all that was going on, he didn't dare let his little brother's call go unanswered.

"Aw, hell," he muttered as he put down the shampoo bottle and forfeited washing his hair. He quickly rinsed the soapy foam that covered his body, turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He scooped the fallen towel up and hurriedly dried himself off.

Sam, upon hearing the shower stop, returned to the other side of the door and reiterated his question.

"How long did Bobby say he'd be out?"

Dean relaxed a bit when he heard Sam's voice. He wrapped his towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. A cloud of steam wafted out and enveloped Sam.

"Didn't say. Why?" the voice from somewhere inside the mist questioned.

Sam stepped back and waved his hand trying to disperse the steamy hot cloud so he could see his brother.

"I don't know. Just seems like he should have been back by now. The Mini Mart's only ten minutes away and it's not like we needed a ton of stuff," Sam explained with concern.

"Probably went to a motel cuz he got tired of you interrupting his showers!" he grumbled as he emerged from the hot fog annoyed that his moment alone had been interrupted by a seemingly non-life threatening situation.

"I'm serious, Dean," Sam clarified as he followed his damp brother into the bedroom where the elder sibling started dressing.

"Guy probably went somewhere. Probably needed some space, Sam. He's used to living alone." he offered as a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why the hunter might be out longer than expected.

"Maybe, but I tried his cell and he's not answering," Sam added worriedly.

Dean paused, not really liking the idea that Bobby was out of contact. It was one thing to be out, another to be unreachable. He reasoned it was probably nothing, but still found it a bit unsettling considering their situation.

"Maybe he turned it off," Dean offered, trying to convince Sam as much as himself that it was no big deal, as he threw on his jeans.

Both brothers looked at each other.

"Nah," they uttered in unison.

They knew Bobby wouldn't have cut communication with Derek bailed out and Bracken missing.

Dean threw on his shirt and looked at Sam's concerned face. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he tried to think of a perfectly reasonable explanation to put his little brother's mind at ease. He was surprised he couldn't think of one. A dead battery on his phone, poor cell reception, forgot to turn it on….Dean knew, just looking at Sam, that none of them would ease the kid's mind.

"You don't think…" Sam worriedly began.

"No, Sam, I don't. Derek and Bracken have no idea where we are. I'm sure he'll be back any minute," Dean quickly assured not wanting to validate Sam's growing anxiety. "Go get your shower. If he's not back after you've washed up, we'll take a drive and look for him."

Sam nodded and grabbed a change of clothes, then reached for his gun which lay hidden in the top, left drawer of his dresser. He reluctantly made his way to the bathroom.

Dean knew Sam was troubled when his little brother took his weapon into the bathroom and to be honest, he was somewhat disturbed himself. He decided to give Joshua a call after Sam was in the shower to see if anything was going on that would justify their concerns or at least if nothing had turned up, it might help alleviate them.

ooOOOoo

"Talk to me," Joshua's deep voice growled out.

"Hey, man, s'me," Dean declared.

"No shit," the amused hunter replied sarcastically as his caller basically told him nothing of who he was. Had it not been that he recognized the older Winchester's voice, the 'me' would have gotten an earful. "What do _you_ want?" he droned out obnoxiously.

Dean was glad he had called and not Sam. Talking to Joshua on the phone was like shaking hands with a rattlesnake. You just knew you were going to get bit, but you never quite saw it coming. He had half a mind to tell the anti-social hunter what to go do with himself, but he needed the gruff hunter's help.

"You got anything going on at your end?" Dean questioned.

"Damn! S'like being married, for god sake, between you and Bobby nagging me all the time. I told him and I'm telling you, I'll call when I've got something solid. Until then you boys…..."

"You talked to Bobby today?!" Dean quickly interrupted wanting to confirm that the hunter had been heard from. "When?"

"How the hell should I know what time he called. What do you think I am, his personal secretary?!" the hunter obnoxiously complained.

Dean cut the rough hunter off. "Cut the crap, man. I can't raise Bobby on his cell and it's not like him to be out of contact," Dean explained. "Now we may have a problem and I need to know if you got anything or not?"

Joshua tolerated Dean's tone and attitude when he heard Bobby was unaccounted for.

"How long's he been missing?" Joshua's concerned voice asked.

"He should have been back hours ago, but that's not what's bugging me. I can't raise him on his cell. S'why I called, man. I need to know if something's going down."

"Maybe," Joshua finally admitted vaguely. "I'm working on a lead."

"Maybe? What the hell is 'maybe'?" Dean repeated surprised the hunter hadn't said something earlier.

"I'm on my way to check out a warehouse down by the docks about an hour from your location," Joshua explained.

"A warehouse? Why? You think Derek and Bracken are there?" Dean questioned hopeful that the two hunters' locations were soon to be discovered, though not pleased they might be only an hour away.

"Maybe. The place has been leased in Jake Wyman's name," Joshua's deep voice explained.

"Jake, as in Roadhouse Jake?" Dean questioned incredulously.

"According to the owner, Jake started his lease the day before yesterday."

"How does a dead guy lease a warehouse?" Dean asked sarcastically, hoping Joshua would explain his cryptic conversation.

"He doesn't. Someone else had to have leased the place in Jake's name," the hunter clarified.

"Why the hell would anyone do that?"

"Do the math, Dean. My guess is that Derek's involved. He's the only hunter left from that gang that would have any connection to Jake."

"If it is Derek, why lease it in Jake's name? Why not use a fake one? S'like a red flag to us. You think they're trying to set us up? Get us out there and reel us in?"

"Either that or he's renting the place in honor of the hunter or hunters that died."

"How the hell does a warehouse honor dead hunters? What would he do with it?"

"It's private, out of the way so no one would be snooping around or asking questions. I'm thinking, if it is Derek, he's planning to finish what the damn bastards started," Joshua stated ominously.

Dean cringed. He knew what the other fourteen hunters had started and the thought of his little brother facing another death squad terrified and infuriated him.

"Nobody's finishing anything!" he growled.

"S'why I'm all over it," Joshua answered attempting to console the infuriated Winchester. He was committed to the task and willing to shoulder the full responsibility of it. He would not allow John's boy to be destroyed.

Dean didn't want consolation; he wanted his brother's safety.

"As soon as you know anything…"

"…you'll know," the hunter promised, then paused. "Dean, if this warehouse does pan out and Bobby doesn't get his ass back soon, we have to assume they're not only in the area, but their working their way to you."

Dean sickened at that thought, not only because it meant that Sam would soon be in danger, but because it confirmed his fears about Bobby's disappearance.

"You think they have Bobby?"

"It's possible," Joshua stated truthfully.

"Damn it! How the hell did they figure out we're here. Only the four of us knew," Dean reasoned aloud not really expecting Joshua to answer.

"You boys been laying low?"

"Yeah. Only been out once. Bobby's been doing all our leg work."

Dean's mind reran the Mini Mart trip and his eyes grew suddenly dark. The cashier had clearly seemed rattled. Was it because he suspected they were robbers or had he been told to watch out for them?

"Any signs of trouble when you were out?" the hunter questioned trying to determine if he thought the boys were in immediate danger.

"Not sure," Dean muttered as his mind began running an unpleasant scenario. If Derek had been in town checking out the motel shooting, he might have flashed pictures of he and Sam around. If the guy at the Mini Mart had been tipped off and told to call ,if he spotted them, Derek would have found out they were in the area and could have been watching for an opportunity to grab Sam. Bobby may have gotten in the way."

"Damn it!" Dean hissed.

"What?" Joshua questioned.

"We may have been ID-ed in town," Dean fretted as he wiped his hand across the back of his neck to relieve the tension that was suddenly building up there.

Joshua, uncomfortable with where things seemed to be pointing began making plans.

"Okay, listen to me. You boys get yourselves packed up and get the hell out of there. I'll check out the warehouse and hook up with you after to let you know what I find."

"What about Bobby?"

Joshua paused, fearing for his older friend's safety.

"If he's not back by the time you're ready to leave, you leave without him!" the hunter stated flatly. It wasn't that he intended to be cold hearted, but he didn't want the boys waiting around possibly playing into Derek's hand. "I'll pick up Derek's trail from the warehouse if the bastard isn't already there with Bobby when I show up. If Bobby's missing, it's a good bet when I find Derek, I'll find him."

Dean was trying to remain calm as he considered Bobby being in Derek's hands. He had no idea if the hunter would try to use him as bait or just kill him. Either was unimaginable. For Bobby to die was unthinkable, for him to be traded for Sam was inconceivable. Dean had to believe that the family friend was okay and he quickly turned his attention to his main concern -keeping Sam safe, and getting out was paramount to that goal.

"Okay," he agreed as he chewed unconsciously on his lip.

"Keep your eyes open and your weapons loaded. I got a feeling we're in for some deep shit," the hunter blatantly cautioned.

"Always," Dean promised. He closed his cell, slid it in his back pocket, and ran his fingers over his lower lip. Seconds later he jumped into action.

oooOOOooo

Sam exited the bathroom having wrapped up his shower quickly in anticipation of their need to go looking for Bobby. When he walked into the bedroom he was taken back by his brother's frantic activity.

"What's going on?"

"We're getting out of here, now," Dean announced firmly.

"Did Bobby call?"

"No, but I spoke to Joshua and things are heating up. We need to pack up and move out."

Sam looked anxiously at Dean. Something had clearly upset his older brother and Sam wanted to know what.

"Heating up how?"

"Let's just say Joshua thinks Derek is in the area," Dean stated gently not wanting to alarm his brother too much about the warehouse and its lease being in Jake's name.

Sam shifted nervously and began packing along side his brother throwing things quickly into his duffle. "What about Bobby? We can't just leave without him and we can't reach him?"

"He should be getting back soon, Sam," Dean offered trying to calm his stressed sibling.

Truth was, Dean feared that Bobby might not be returning and he had a good idea why. His first task was to get Sam the hell out of there and somewhere safe, his second would be to find Bobby.

Sam stilled and turned to Dean. He eyed his brother suspiciously.

Dean noticed his brother's behavior and knew what was coming.

"You think they've got him, don't you?" Sam asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Dean licked his lips, stilled and turned to Sam. He wanted to say no, but he feared the older hunter may have gotten grabbed in town.

Sam looked at Dean with absolute trust and Dean couldn't lie to him.

"I don't know, but I think it's a good possibility," he began with a deep sign. "If they did, we'll get him back," he stated confidently as he continued stuffing his clothes that he'd thrown on the bed in his duffle.

"How the hell do we get him back?!" Sam exclaimed as fear for the dear friend grabbed hold of him. "We don't know where he is!"

"Joshua has a lead as to where Derek might be. If Derek has Bobby, Joshua will find him," Dean explained as he eyed his brother to see if Sam was okay with it. "Right now, we gotta get out of here."

Sam sat down on the bed and shook his head. "God, Dean. If anything happens to Bobby because of me…" Sam put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. "I could never live with myself," he softly added.

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder and nodded feeling his little brother's pain. He reiterated his claim trying desperately to believe it himself. "Nothing's gonna happen to Bobby. If they got him, you, me and Joshua will get him back. Okay?"

Sam nodded, not because he believed it, but because he didn't dare not to.

"Now, c'mon, pack up. I'm gonna run some stuff to the car and I'll be right back," Dean explained as he pointed to Sam's weapon tucked in his waistband. "You loaded?"

Sam nodded sadly.

"You stay in the apartment. Let me load the car. Stay away from the door and windows and do not come outside. Try Bobby's cell again too," he added as he grabbed the one packed duffle and headed towards the hallway.

Sam nodded again, but didn't move.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned as he looked back at his defeated looking brother just sitting on the bed.

Sam looked up with worried eyes.

"Bobby's gonna be okay," he offered gently trying to allay his brother's fears.

Sam nodded again, but didn't move.

"I need ya packing, man," Dean announced trying to spur Sam into action from the shock that seemed to be paralyzing him.

Dean couldn't help but feel for his little brother. He'd had so many deaths he blamed himself for and he was just starting to come to terms with the idea that he would be forgiven by those who loved him. He was even taking positive steps towards trying to forgive himself. If Bobby ended up being a victim in all of this, he feared he'd lose his brother forever in the quicksand of guilt and blame that had nearly swallowed him whole not so long ago.

Sam sighed and stood up to move towards the dresser to finish what Dean had started.

Dean nodded, slapped his hand on the door frame twice pleased to see his brother back in action, shifted the packed gear on his shoulder to get the strap off his still healing wound and headed down the hallway towards the front door.

He felt for his keys in his pocket, and then opened the door. Before the outside air made contact with his skin, he felt the barrel of a gun shove hard against his chest.

He immediately made a move for his weapon.

"Don't," the hardened hunter growled. "You make a move and _Bobby_ dies."

Dean froze at the mention of Bobby's name. His heart beat doubled as adrenaline prickled throughout his system. All his fears were confirmed; the bastard had the family friend and was coming for Sam. His attention immediately turned to Sam's safety and he bit his lip nervously.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back. You pull anything, my partner will kill the old man," the hunter continued softly as he removed Dean's weapon and shoved him back.

Dean stared into the hunter's barrel, tempted to take his chances, but he feared Bobby would pay the price if he weren't successful. He turned reluctantly and slowly placed his hands behind him.

Bracken quickly slipped a pair of handcuffs into Dean's hands.

"Put them on and lock 'em," he ordered softly as he glanced down the hallway to check for the supernatural demon soldier.

Dean grimaced, frustrated with the situation and his disadvantaged position. He loved Bobby and would die for the guy, but he couldn't give up Sam, no matter what the cost. He needed to warn his brother, before the hunter could get his hands on him.

"I said lock em, damn it," the hunter growled again in a hushed tone when Dean hesitated. "If I'm not out of here in ten minutes, your friend gets a bullet between his eyes," he reiterated.

Dean obliged angrily. He slid his right wrist into the cuff and locked it, then did the same with his left.

Now more confident that Dean would not be a problem, Bracken moved in, locked his arm around Dean's neck and pulled tightly. He shoved his cocked gun deep into the handcuffed hunter's back.

"Where's your brother?" he whispered through clenched teeth.

"Out," Dean flatly declared, not about to help the hunter locate Sam.

"Bullshit! Call him," Bracken demanded softly.

"Go to hell!" the older sibling stated adamantly. His tone and pitch were loud in hopes of signaling Sam of trouble.

Bracken pulled tighter on Dean's neck and switched his gun from Dean's back and to his temple.

"Shut the hell up!" he demanded figuring the demon soldier was probably aware of his presence now.

Sam heard Dean's curse and his heart slammed against the wall of his chest. _Oh, shit! _He drew his weapon and threw his back against the wall just to the side of the doorway to listen to what was going on. He hugged his piece tight to his chest, cupped in both hands, and fingered the trigger. Worry and panic assaulted him as he feared his brother was about to lose his life.

Knowing the soldier was already alerted to his presence, Bracken decided to call him out.

"Get the hell out here or I'll blow your brother's brains all over this apartment," the angered hunter threatened loudly as he held on tightly to Dean, his weapon massaging the older Winchester's temple. He strained to see any movement to indicate the demon soldier's location.

Sam bit his lip, took a deep breath, and moved into the door frame, bracing his back against the wood as he held his arms straight out in front of him aiming his weapon down the hallway at the intruder's head. His hand shook slightly as he took in his brother's situation. His older sibling was locked in a strangle hold with a gun to his head. Sam's numb hand made it difficult for him to hold his trembling hand steady.

"Drop your weapon or I'll blow him away!" the aggressive intruder hollered out again as he fingered the trigger.

"Let him go!" Sam demanded unwilling to yield, knowing that to do so would not guarantee his brother's safety.

"Drop your weapon, damn it or I swear I'll kill him!" the hunter yelled back.

"You hurt him and you'll never make it out that door alive!" Sam growled threateningly.

Sam steadied his piece and made eye contact with Dean, searching his brother's eyes for a signal of when he'd make his move. Dean knew so many ways to disarm the guy and once his brother's head cleared the barrel, he'd take the hunter down. He had an easy shot to the guy's gun toting shoulder if his brother could get a few inches out of the hunter's gun's sight.

Dean raised his eyebrows in apology when he didn't fight or make a move to free himself. He knew it might result in he and Sam being taken hostage, but if he freed himself now the cost would be Bobby's life. If he and his brother were taken to where Bobby was being held, the three might be able to figure a way out of the situation alive. For now, he would wait and watch for a chance to save them both.

Sam, unaware of Bobby's predicament, was perplexed by Dean's unwillingness to free himself.

"I said drop it now!" Bracken demanded again as he tightened his grip even more around Dean's neck. Hatred and determination radiated out of the man and Sam worried the hunter would soon follow through with his threat.

Dean started gasping and his face began turning red. He could feel his mind detaching from his body as his air supply diminished. The hope of he and his brother being taken hostage together began fading as well. If he were to lose consciousness, Sam would be taken to face the hunters alone, and he could not let that happen. As much as he feared for Bobby's life, Dean had to deal with the present situation first…Sam's safety…To secure that, he'd have to fight.

"Sh-shoot im, S-sam," Dean managed to strain out as his world began to spin. He struggled to free himself, but was easily subdued by the overbearing hunter who quickly adjusted to his sluggish movements and maintained his position safely hidden behind him.

"Shut the hell up!" Bracken screamed at Dean, shocked at his threatening comment. He quickly turned to Sam who still held him in his sights.

"You shoot….I'll take him with me," Bracken threatened Sam, holding the piece tight to Dean's head, his arm still strangling the now swaying sibling.

Sam furrowed his brow and bit his lip when he realized Dean couldn't clear the huntsman's barrel. He re-grasped his piece holding its aim steady as his face scowled in worry for his brother's life.

"We got the old man and I got your brother. Now, drop your weapon or they both die!"

Sam's chest literally hurt when he heard the announcement that the hunters had Bobby as well. He shifted nervously as he considered the impossible situation. If he took a shot and killed the huntsman, Dean might get killed in the process and Bobby would surely be sacrificed. He knew he couldn't take a chance on Dean's life and he couldn't allow them to kill Bobby. The only choice left was to negotiate a trade. His life for theirs.

"You'll let them go if I do?" Sam attempted to negotiate, keeping his piece aimed at the threatening hunter's head as he gave a quick glance to Dean. He shifted slightly and repositioned his hands once again on his weapon wanting to maintain his intimidation so the hunter wouldn't hurt his brother.

Dean's heart sank when he realized Sam was considering relinquishing his gun.

"We came for you. You come quietly?... the old man and your brother go free," the hunter promised as he loosened his choke hold on Dean's neck to show good faith.

Things were still hazy for Dean, but were definitely getting clearer. Bracken had no intention of taking him and Sam together. Dean's plan for the two to meet up with Bobby and face their foes was no longer a possibility. He had to convince Sam not to go, not to cooperate or his sibling would be on his own, unprotected, and alone. Against a lynching, Sam wouldn't stand a chance.

"Don't buy it, Sam. It's bullshit!" Dean spat desperately hoping his moral little brother wouldn't surrender. He worried for Bobby, but he knew Sam was their prize. If they got him, they would kill him. He struggled to offer Sam another shot, but once again the experienced hunter moved with him and he was unable to clear the barrel.

Sam glanced over to Dean.

The slight shake of Dean's head clearly told Sam not to surrender.

Then Sam looked back over to the hunter who had his brother in an impossible position. Sam looked back at Dean feeling he had little choice. Even if he and his brother took this guy out, Bobby would be lost and he couldn't let Bobby die in his place.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" Sam demanded, doubtful that he or Derek could be trusted, and wanting a guarantee.

Dean shifted nervously and shook his head. "You don't!" he hissed, warning Sam to hold his ground.

"It's true, but if you don't come, you know for sure they will die. It doesn't have to end that way," he smoothly added leading up to his point. The words, spoken just as Jake had said them weeks earlier, burned into Dean's heart and frightened Sam, flooding his mind of the horror of the roadhouse. Sam's heart began beating so rapidly, he found it difficulty to catch his breath.

"You know why we're here and it doesn't need to involve them. You come with us, now, and this ends the way you want it to," Bracken added smoothly.

Sam took a deep breath to calm himself and looked at his brother.

Dean watched in horror as he saw his brother's threatening eyes soften.

"No, Sam!" he commanded.

Sam continued gazing at his brother, begging for Dean to understand that he could not allow Bobby or he to be killed because of him. His life simply wasn't worth it.

Dean shook his head and watched in horror as his brother slowly released his grip on his piece.

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean cursed as he began furiously struggling to turn the situation around before Sam lost the chance to re-aim and fire.

Bracken belted Dean in the back of the head with the butt of his gun and the eldest Winchester collapsed. The overpowering hunter then dropped to the floor with his knee shoved deep into Dean's back and pinned the stunned hunter's head to the floor with his weapon. He immediately looked back at Sam to be sure he'd made his point and that the young hunter wasn't reconsidering his surrender.

Sam watched in horror as Bracken subdued his brother in the same manner that Jake had subdued him many weeks earlier. He could still feel the knee in his back and the helplessness he had experienced. To see Dean suffer the same treatment he had had to bear shredded his heart.

"No!" he whispered as he held his hands up, palm open and out, his gun hanging from his pointer finger to show he had no intention of forcing the overbearing hunter's hand. "Don't hurt him! Please, just don't hurt him," Sam begged.

Dean's head lay sandwiched between the floor and the barrel of the gun, his back pinned cruelly. His eyes struggled to focus as waves of dizziness assaulted him. He needed to see his little brother who was fearful yet determined, determined to trade his life, and he felt helpless to stop it.

"Empty your weapon one bullet at a time!" the vicious hunter demanded. "I want to see each drop. Then put your piece down at your feet."

Sam did as he was told as he nervously watched the hunter's gun positioned against his brother's head. He emptied his piece of all its rounds and placed it slowly on the floor, then stood back up, hands once again palm out and up.

Dean was sick with worry as he struggled to clear his blurred vision.

"Now put your hands on your head and walk towards me, slowly," Bracken ordered.

Sam linked his fingers and placed them on the top of his head. His elbows pointed outward. The hall he'd walked so many times with Dean shadowing him to guarantee his safety, was no longer a path of hope, of hard work and brotherly playfulness, but a path of promised doom.

Dean's eyes were wide in panic as he desperately tried to figure a way out of the situation.

Sam slowly walked to Bracken and stopped when he was told to.

The huntsman was pleased to see the mighty demon soldier parading as a captured prisoner of war.

"Now keep your hands up and walk slowly to the door, stay back away from us or he gets it."

Sam willingly complied.

Bracken tracked Sam's movements and kept his body out of reach of the soldier while maintaining his threat to Dean's life.

As Sam passed Dean, he bit his lip and forced a smile; his eyebrows crinkled in apology. He knew Dean would never understand his choice, never accept his decision, but he hoped that one day Dean might come to terms with why he made it.

Tears stung in Dean's eyes as his ultimate nightmare played out in real life before him. He tried to pull his knees up under him for leverage, to arch his back and tip the oppressive man off. He felt the gun press deeper into his skull, but didn't care. He had to keep Sam from sacrificing himself and if he had to spur his brother into action by having the hunter take his life, then so be it.

The hunter knew Dean was willing to die for his brother and feared things might get out of control. The only way to subdue Dean was to threaten his brother, so he quickly turned his piece on Sam, pointing it directly at his head.

"I can take him right now if you prefer!" the hunter threatened Dean.

"No!" Dean cried out as he instantly settled.

Sam froze when he heard his brother's cry and turned around.

The hunter returned his weapon to Dean's temple to keep him motivated.

"There's a van at the bottom of the stairs," he explained to Sam. "Get in the back and cuff yourself. Make sure you loop the cuffs around the center pole so you're attached to the vehicle. When you're secured, my partner will call me and I'll free your brother and join you. You screw up, I'll kill your brother and the old man dies."

Sam nodded and looked back at Dean.

"Don't do it, Sam," Dean begged his little brother.

"For Bobby," Sam gently uttered wanting Dean to allow him to leave without interfering. Then his saddened lips curled gently upwards at the corners. " and for you."

With that, he slipped out the door.

Dean watched in horror as his brother disappeared. "Noooooo!"

Bracken sighed in relief that the volatile situation had been resolved.

"You son of a bitch! You hurt him and so help me god, I'll kill you," Dean threatened through clenched teeth.

"Now how the hell are you gonna do that?" Bracken mocked as he stood up, weapon aimed, and grabbed some rope from his pocket.

Dean knew he was Sam's only hope and if he didn't take the guy down now, he would have no chance to follow Sam and attempt a rescue. He knew it would be risky for Bobby, but he doubted the hunters really planned to let either one of them live anyways. He slowly struggled to his feet as his world turned uncontrollably in front of him causing him to sway.

Bracken was amused by the young hunter's determination against hopeless odds. "You can't be serious," he mocked as Dean faced him with absolute hatred in his eyes.

"You're not taking my brother!" he hissed.

Using everything Dean had left inside of him, he hurled himself at the armed man. He managed to take the hunter to the floor, but with his hands cuffed and his head spinning, he was unable to defeat him.

Bracken struck the infuriated hunter with the butt of his gun again and again until the courageous young hunter's world went dark.

The brutal hunter slid out from under the unconscious Winchester, kicked his body over, and rose to his feet. In anger, he hauled off and kicked Dean violently in the stomach and chest and then spit on him.

"Kill me, my ass!" Bracken mocked. "You'd have to be alive to do that," the hunter mocked as he took a grenade out of his pocket and picked up the rope that had fallen in the struggle.

He bound Dean's ankles tightly, wrapped the rope several times around his chest, then removed the pin and placed the grenade between the taught rope and the unconscious hunter's chest. If Dean were to move, even slightly, the grenade would slip out, go live, and blow pieces of the hunter's body clear out to the parking lot leaving behind an expressionistic painting on whatever parts of the walls had survived the explosion.

Bracken studied Dean's doomed body for a moment. He was pleased he'd taken down the one hunter none of the others had been able to, and done so with relative ease. The young hunter had to die for all the deaths he had caused and for sheltering his supernatural brother, that was a given. But a small side of Bracken almost admired Dean…that this one man could take on an army of hunters and almost win. He'd never met the legendary John Winchester, but he almost wished he had. He would have liked to have seen the man who had raised such a mighty warrior.

Knowing his ten minutes were clearly past, he quickly slipped out the door and off down the apartment stairs to secure his prisoner of war.

TBC


	24. Hand Grenades and Hopelessness

**Terminology 101**

"_Flash-Bang" is a grenade designed to shock, confuse, or distract. It creates a blinding flash and a deafening blast, but does not usually result in casualties._

"_Fragmentation Grenade" is a grenade loaded with shrapnel which is used out in the open and results in serious injuries and casualties._

"_Concussion Grenade" is an overpressured grenade with explosive power that causes casualties and structural damage. It is usually used in closed spaces._

"_Safety Handle (spoon): a handle on a grenade that, when released, starts a timer which eventually detonates the grenade. A "pin" must be removed to enable the safety handle to be released. Timers can delay detonation by seconds or minutes depending on which ones are used. _

_Cat O' Nine Tails (Cat) : A whip consisting of nine knotted cords fastened to a handle designed to lacerate the skin and cause intense pain. To make a cat o' nine tails, a rope is unraveled into three small ropes, and each of those unraveled, again in three. As a punishment device, the rationalization for the number nine is that nine is thrice three: a Trinity of Trinities, fitting the concept of the wrongdoer going against the God. Historically, soldiers were generally stripped to the waist when flogged. _

**Previously**

Bracken bound Dean's ankles tightly, wrapped the rope several times around his chest, then removed the pin and placed the grenade between the taut rope and the unconscious hunter's chest. If Dean were to move, even slightly, the grenade would slip out, go live, and blow pieces of the hunter's body clear out to the parking lot leaving behind an expressionistic painting on whatever walls had survived the explosion.

Bracken studied Dean's doomed body for a moment. He was pleased he'd taken down the one hunter none of the others had been able to, and done so with relative ease. The young hunter had to die for all the deaths he had caused and for sheltering his supernatural brother, that was a given. But a small side of Bracken almost admired Dean…that this one man could take on an army of hunters and almost win. He'd never met the legendary John Winchester, but he almost wished he had. He would have liked to have seen the man who had raised such a mighty warrior.

**Chapter 24**

Sam neared the black van that was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and immediately recognized the second hunter, Derek, waiting by the opened back doors. The hunter smiled eerily, pleased that all was going well, and gestured for Sam to get in.

Sam glanced back at the apartment as he worried for Dean.

"You'll let him go!" the youngest sibling repeated wanting to be sure Derek understood the terms of his surrender.

Derek nodded.

Sam climbed willingly into the back of the van.

The doors were slammed shut and locked behind him. He glanced down at the handcuffs and then searched the cab for anything he could use to later unlock the cuffs when he was given the opportunity to, if he was given the opportunity to. Unfortunately the inside of the van had been stripped, nothing but the metal frame surrounded him.

The surrendered hunter startled suddenly when heard something slam against the back door and he recognized it as a demand that he put on and fasten the cuffs. He slipped one on and locked it, wrapped the chain around the pole in the center of the van that extended from top to bottom, and cuffed the second one around his tingling wrist. He pulled on the pole to test its strength. Unfortunately, it held fast.

He finally sat down on the floor and waited nervously for the van to take off. His heart was pounding furiously. He couldn't help but wonder what the hunters had in store for him…an inquisition? Beatings? Torture? Death? In a way, he reasoned, if Dean and Bobby got to live, whatever was going to happen would be worth it.

To Sam's surprise, the van door suddenly opened again and Bracken jumped inside.

Sam heard the van start up. He turned and eyed the hunter suspiciously.

"How's Dean?" he questioned wondering why his released brother wasn't pounding on the back door and chasing after the van.

"Resting," the hunter smoothly answered with a sneer.

Sam eyed the hunter uncertain as to what he meant…resting as in knocked unconscious or resting as in resting in p…...His mind couldn't even go there.

"He'll wake up to a mind splitting headache," the hunter clarified deliberately with an almost malevolent smile.

Sam studied the hunter feeling like his awkward words were masking a hidden meaning.

"He's alive?" Sam questioned needing clarification.

"He's alive," the hunter answered coldly.

Sam watched anxiously as the man seemed to be searching his pocket for something. Seconds later, he pulled a syringe and moved in towards Sam.

Sam's already anxiously beating heart slammed hard against his chest.

"What the hell is _in_ it?" Sam questioned fearfully as thoughts of his drug dependency and withdrawal wreaked havoc in his mind.

The hunter merely smiled and came closer.

Sam struggled to get away, but cuffed, there was no where he could go.

The ruthless man shoved the helpless hunter's body against the cold metal ridges of the van's floor. Their unyielding forms pressed painfully into his ribs and jaw as he was pinned mercilessly beneath the full weight of the hunter as he bore down on the helpless Winchester's back with his knee. He struggled in vain to prevent the unpreventable. Pained and exhausted, he was finally wrestled into submission. A strong, calloused hand grabbed a fistful of his long brown hair and brutally yanked his head back, forcing his neck to be exposed.

"No! Please, no!" the young captive begged willing to handle most anything they could throw his way but withdrawal. A sharp prick in his exposed neck accompanied by a burning sensation quickly flooded his vein and spread throughout his body.

"no-o-o" he whispered breathlessly as his head became fuzzy and his body became lax. His limbs grew overwhelmingly heavy as he lost all sensation in them. He tried to speak, to curse the hunter's cruelty, but his mouth only mumbled slurred sounds that were lost on heartless ears. He struggled to remain conscious, fearing that if he didn't he might never wake up, but the injected chemicals suppressed his body's functions and he eventually lost his battle and melted down into the cold, metal floor.

oooOOOooo

"Dean," a deep familiar voice called out.

Dean felt a large calloused hand against his cheek, a second pressing firmly on his painful chest. Panic assaulted him and he quickly snapped awake prepared to finish his attack on Bracken.

"Don't move!"

"Bobby?" the confused, foggy minded hunter questioned having not quite gotten a fix on his situation or location.

"No, Dean, it's me," Joshua corrected seriously. "Stay still. Stay perfectly still."

"What?" Dean asked noting Joshua's total attention to his chest. He tried to lift his head to see what the hunter was staring at. He was instantly pinned by Joshua's overwhelming, muscular arms.

"What the hell?" Dean questioned confused by the man's crushing pressure.

"Whatever you do, don't move," Joshua ordered in a harsh, controlling voice.

Dean noticed deep creases etched in the overbearing hunters face especially between his eyes and knew something was desperately wrong. He searched the hunter's eyes looking for some sort of explanation.

"You're rigged," the hunter clarified with grave concern as he continued to subdue Dean while he studied his predicament. "Stay perfectly still and try not to breathe."

"How the hell am I supposed to not br…. Shit! I'm riggmmm?" Dean felt a calloused hand clamp down on his mouth.

Joshua held a finger to his lips trying to get the ranting Winchester to shut up and concentrate on being still. "Grenade," he clarified as he finally got Dean's attention.

Dean's eyes widened in shock. He stilled and tried to slow and steady his breathing.

Confident that the young hunter now understood his situation, he returned to carefully studing the position of the grenade in order to figure out how to safely remove it.

Joshua gently prodded the ropes to determine exactly which kind of grenade it was and how he wanted to get the damn thing out. He couldn't see the explosive weapon's full body beneath the tightly wound rope, but it was safe to assume the pin was out. It looked like the 'spoon' was away from Dean's chest being held tight to the grenade by the ropes. Any change in tension could easily release it. That ruled out cutting Dean free.

Dean watched Joshua's face and tried to figure out how screwed he was from his expressions. Based on what he was seeing , it didn't look good.

"Fragmentation Grenade?" Dean worriedly questioned knowing that the shrapnel filled bombs were deadly.

Joshua shook his head.

"Don't suppose it's a 'Flash-Bang', the hunter barely whispered out with a forced, crooked smile, hoping to get lucky. He figured it was unlikely Bracken would use a device that was basically harmless other than making you blind and deaf for a few days.

"You wish," the hunter joked trying to keep the slowly panicking Winchester calm. Joshua knew which device it was and it wasn't the shock and awe type.

"Sorry, Dean," the hunter apologized.

"Concussion." Dean stated flatly figuring the over pressured, high powered, explosive device would be his weapon of choice in this situation, a closed place where the shockwave would cause serious damage and….casualties. Unfortunately for Dean, this type of grenade usually detonated within seconds of the spoons release.

Joshua shook his head yes as he studied the tautness of the rope and fingered the spacing between each wound section. Unable to slip his fingers between each one for fear of changing the tension, he determined he'd have to place his hand under the rope closest to Dean 's waist and gently push the grenade upward to get it to come out the top all the while keeping the tension on the safety handle so the damn thing didn't explode. Due to the grenade's shape, he had to be careful that each strand was tight enough to Dean's chest as he moved the weapon upward so that the bomb would be disarmed the whole time.

Dean remained quiet, trying to allow the calculating hunter the silence needed to figure out how to keep the device from detonating. His mind wandered from his current situation to Sam's. Having no idea how his brother was or even where he was, nor how much time had passed since he'd been taken, he began to worry and his breathing increased.

"Easy, Dean," Joshua whispered soothingly, not wanting the young hunter to sabotage his chances to survive.

"How long's it been," Dean questioned daring to interrupt Joshua's focus. He had to know how long his little brother has been in Derek's hands.

Joshua knew Dean was asking about Sam. "Hour and twenty, maybe?" Joshua offered.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. Jake had nearly destroyed Sam in less than that back at the roadhouse.

"We're gonna help him," Joshua stated confidently, "soon as we get you free."

Dean nodded. "We need to hurry."

Joshua nodded in agreement and finalized his plan in his mind. "Okay," he muttered communicating that he was ready.

While Dean trusted Joshua, he felt an overwhelming desire to confirm his strategy. If Joshua erred, they would die and Sam…..Sam would be left to suffer whatever atrocities Derek and Bracken had planned before they dropped the same sentence on his little brother that Jake had. "_Take him out and kill him_," Jake had said cold-bloodedly. The words still chilled the very fibers of Dean's being. He had to survive this for Sam's sake.

"Where's the spoon?" Dean questioned as he began confirming Joshua's plans. He knew if Joshua didn't keep the safety handle tight to the body of the grenade, he'd be spread all over the parking lot within a matter of seconds.

Joshua smiled, recognizing the hunter's question as one of distrust, an old familiar friend of his. He couldn't fault Dean for double checking him, he would be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed. He willing obliged by revealing in detail what was going to take place hoping to put the young hunter's mind at ease. Dean's ability to relax was paramount if Joshua was going to free the kid.

"Spoon's against the ropes. The grenade's resting under the fifth through nineth rows counting from the top," Joshua explained as he continued reviewing his strategy to remove it. "Can't pull it through, not enough space, so I'm gonna have to slide it up along your chest and out the top. Even though it's closer to the bottom, I don't want to take a chance on the spoon catching on the rope by going down."

Dean nodded in agreement.

" You're gonna need to take a deep breath and hold it to keep the ropes taut. You have to stay perfectly still once I start pushing it out. And whatever you do, don't exhale! We lose tension on the ropes and it goes live. We'll have five seconds tops to detonation if that happens."

Dean licked his lips and nodded nervously.

"Ready?"

Dean nodded again.

Joshua smiled reassuringly at Dean and then positioned himself to act.

"Go!"

Dean took a steady deep breath and held it, forcing the grenade tight against the coiled ropes that wrapped around his chest.

Joshua immediately slipped his fingers in under the bottom of the ropes and began slowly and methodically pushing the device upwards towards the top, being careful to keep the tension on the spoon. The 1inch rope, wound around the hunter ten times with little to no space in between the sections, was not interested in letting go of the pineapple shaped weapon and Joshua had to increase his pressure to get it moving before Dean ran out of air and exhaled.

Dean's lungs began to burn as they cried out for a fresh new supply of oxygen. The blood vessels began to pop out on the sides of his neck.

"Hold on……." Joshua calmly and smoothly coached as he continued to work the explosive inside the rope along Dean's damaged chest.

Dean's eyes began to widen, not only in pain, but in fear of asphyxiation, and the careful hunter could tell he had to hurry.

"Almost there," Joshua coached. "Almost there. Don't let it out. Not yet. Hold it. Hold it…."

With a steady hand, Joshua grabbed hold of the body of the grenade and pulled it past the top strand quickly placing his thumb on the spoon to keep it down. Once freed, he secured the safety handle and moved the grenade away for Dean to take a breath.

The young hunter's chest heaved dramatically as his body sucked in its first desperately needed breath. Several smaller heaves finally provided the much needed oxygen to give Dean a voice to speak with.

"We have to help Sam!" Dean worriedly explained as he lay tied and handcuffed on the floor. He rolled on his side and pushed his fastened hands upwards gesturing for Joshua to unlock his cuffs.

Joshua secured the safety handle with a make shift 'pin' and set the disarmed grenade on the floor. He immediately began working to free the bound and cuffed Winchester.

"How'd you know to come?" the young hunter asked as Joshua leaned him up to untie his ropes. Dean's damaged ribs screamed in pain when they were put upon to hold him upright and he winced.

"You didn't answer your cell. I knew something was wrong. Came as soon as I could. Obviously not soon enough," he added as he finished removing the last loop of the rope and attempted to lay the injured Winchester back down to the floor.

Dean detected regret with a hint of sadness in the hunter's voice. Dean could tell that the seemingly calloused hunter really did care about Sam, not just out of obligation to John, but out of genuine feeling for his little brother. Dean only wished Sam was there to see it.

Dean struggled to remain seated as Joshua applied more pressure to lay him down to inspect his wounds.

"Lay still, let me take a look at you?" Joshua ordered gently as he firmly pushed the injured hunter back to the floor. He began opening Dean's bloody shirt.

"I'm fine!," Dean declared, annoyed by Joshua's inactivity. "We need to find Sam and Bobby! Tell me you know something! Did you make it to the warehouse? Was Bobby there?"

Joshua pressed on Dean's bruised ribs to see if they were broken. The bruising around them suggested they might be, but nothing seemed out of place.

The young hunter groaned and pulled away, uncomfortable with Joshua's tending. Sam, yes, Bobby okay, but Joshua, no way. He wiped his bloodied nose and mouth on his sleeve.

Joshua recognized Dean was not about to allow his injuries to interfere with his brother's safety, nor Bobby's so he dropped his ministrations.

"Warehouse was empty," Joshua explained. "Bobby wasn't there…none of the hunters were, but….."

"Shit! We have no idea then, where they took them?" Dean interrupted in panic as he rubbed his hand through his hair and rested it on top of his head.

" Let me finish," Joshua corrected. "It was empty of hunters, Dean, but there's no question its a hunter's lair."

Respecting Dean too much to lie to him he decided to continue. Facts were facts, and Sam was in deep shit, and Dean had a right to know. " I saw all kind of weapons, chains, …." The hunter suddenly paused as he saw the older sibling's reaction.

Dean looked at the hunter as fear and anger burned inside of him. Joshua's words confirmed that Sam was once again in the hands of a lynching mob and was probably being tortured as they spoke. He swallowed hard as images of the roadhouse once again flashed through his mind momentarily paralyzing him.

Joshua looked at Dean's body again with a critical eye trying to discern if the hunter was struggling with his concerns or wounds. He was bruised, obviously beaten, and suffering from injured ribs. He'd been unconscious and his wrists were obviously sprained from being cuffed. Joshua knew the kid should get medical attention and he also knew he had to get to Sam.

"Can you get yourself to a hospital?" the hunter questioned not wanting to leave Dean alone in his condition, but knowing he needed to get to the warehouse before Sam faced his death.

"No hospital! I'm coming with you," Dean stated stubbornly as he began to sit up again.

Joshua nodded. He'd had a feeling Dean would see things that way. He stood up and offered Dean his hand.

Dean eyed it momentarily and then grabbed hold.

Joshua pulled the injured hunter to his feet and gave him a minute to steady himself.

Dean headed towards the door and then stopped suddenly and turned around. "Give me a minute," he asked the older hunter .

Joshua nodded unsure they really had a minute to spare.

He made his way down the hallway, crouched down, and gathered Sam's gun and ammunition, which his brother had been forced to leave behind. He paused as he held his little brother's weapon in his hand almost as if he were experiencing his brother's presence by doing so. He closed his eyes as they threatened to tear. Images of Sam's torture at the roadhouse flashed through his mind again. He dropped is head down for a moment, struggling to regain his composure. _Not again_ his heart silently cried out.

As Joshua watched the young hunter mourned the loss of his little brother's presence, an unexpected twinge of longing tugged as his near frozen heart and he found himself mesmorized by the eldest Winchester's pure devotion and love for his brother. Joshua had given up connecting emotionally to people years ago, enjoying the hermit like lifestyle that kept him free from being 'hurt' or hurting anyone. It was safe, defined, and….as he looked at Dean's heart for Sam….lonely. Finding the emotions to be more than he was willing to deal with, he quickly forced them from his mind.

" You ready?" the seasoned hunter almost choked out.

Refusing to accept that his brother was going to suffer and die, he sniffed determinedly, pushed his hands off his knees, and stood up. He swayed slightly, steadied himself on the wall behind him and returned to Joshua resolute to find his brother and kill the bastards who took him, before it was too late.

"Always," Dean answered with a half smile as he tucked his brother's weapon into his waistband. "Sammy's gonna need this," he whispered softly feeling like he needed to explain. Truth was, Dean needed it. He needed to believe Sam would be alright and would join him at his side, weapon drawn, hunting evil again. His little brother's weapon held that promise and he had to carry it next to his own until his brother was carrying it next to him, himself.

Dean quickly grabbed his keys and the two headed out the door. He stopped at the Impala and turned to Joshua for directions.

"Follow me. It's about an hour from here," Joshua called over his shoulder as he headed off to his truck.

Dean frowned finding an hour unbearable.

"Dean?"

"Yeah," the troubled hunter answered and he snapped out of his frozen moment, keyed his lock, and slid in behind his wheel.

Two engines revved up simultaneously. Two vehicles sped out of the apartment complex and onto the main road.

**oooOOOooo**

Darkness

Pain

Stiffness

Numbness

Bone chilling cold

Sam stirred and slowly became aware of how difficult it was to breathe. He tried to open his eyes and raise his head, to understand where he was and what was happening, but his body wasn't quite able to obey his commands. Instead all he could do was feel…feel the stiffness in his bound hands, the numbness in his blood starved fingers, the pain of being cruelly suspended by his arms up off the stained cement floor, his muscles stretched beyond bearable limits. His exposed rib cage struggled to expand, his lungs to suck in air, but his position worked against him. Gravity pulled him down, closing his ribcage. His over extended frame, stretched beyond reason, was unable to expand outward to accommodate any air that could have otherwise made it in. Cold and confused, Sam longed for his brother and not knowing if he was there with him or not, he called out with what little breath he had.

"Deahhh?"

"Sam," a sympathetic voice called back from somewhere off to the right. The voice wasn't that of his brother's, but it was still warm and welcomed.

"f-f-f Bob-by? f-f-f" Sam shivered out as he finally managed to gain control of his tongue. The chemicals coursing through his veins were beginning to lose their hold on him.

He struggled to lift his head and searched for the older hunter. To his dismay, Bobby lay bound and obviously beaten on the cold cement floor of what looked like a long forgotten warehouse.

Sam blinked slowly trying to get a clearer look at the crumpled hunter.

"f-f-f- You o-okay? f-f-f-f-," Sam questioned with chattering teeth, seemingly unaware of his own precarious situation dangling, bound, from a beam that crossed the warehouse approximately six and a half feet from the ground. His shirt had been removed and the cold dampness of the warehouse permeated deep into the very center of his bones.

Bobby smiled and shook his head, amazed that the young hunter was more concerned about him than he was for himself.

"I'm okay, Sam. You?" the worried hunter questioned finding it painful to see Sam strung up like an animal struggling to gain consciousness. The hunter didn't know what was planned for the young Winchester, but he knew that whatever it was, it was not good.

"Not sh-sh-sh-sure," Sam whispered honestly as he looked himself over. Sam's boots barely touched as he struggled to push off the floor to relieve his wrists. "So groggy," he explained as his eyes shut and slowly reopened. "Dean?"

"Not here, Sam," Bobby explained apologetically.

Sam nodded, a slight smile of relief crossed his lips. He hoped Dean had gotten away. He began looking around at his surroundings, trying to get a sense of his environment in the hopes of gaining a tactical advantage and saving Bobby.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Bobby apologized sadly. "I should have been more careful. I should have been…"

Sam interrupted Bobby. "You've b-been….. everything …….you sh-sh-should have b-been……. and me and Dean….. h-have no regrets," Sam shivered out slowly as he struggled to take in the needed air to speak his words.

Bobby's head dropped as he felt overwhelmed with the kindness of Sam's heart.

"Do you th-think… you can g-get free?" Sam questioned hoping the hunter might have a knife or something to free himself with. The young hunter had already tugged at his bonds and he knew he wasn't going anywhere.

"He's not going anywhere and neither are you!" a loud, obnoxious voice boomed out as Derek entered through a side door. Bracken followed close behind. A loud metallic boom signaled the warehouse door had closed behind them.

Both captured hunters were startled by their sudden appearances. Sam strained to see his oppressors. His dangling position made it difficult for him to turn to look at them straight on.

"You p-promised…..to l-let him g-go…if I …c-came with you," Sam managed out trying to hold the man accountable and plead for Bobby's life.

"Yeah, well, I also promised to let your brother go, too," the hunter replied smugly as he let out a slight laugh.

Sam looked over to the hunter with panicked eyes.

"Well, technically you did," Bracken smoothly put out to clarify his partner's statement.

"True," Derek commented amusingly back. "I let him go... to a much better place," the cruel hunter admitted as he looked at Bracken and smiled. Both figured by now that the eldest Winchester was dead.

"No. God, no" Sam whispered breathlessly as he felt what little air was left in his lungs get heartlessly sucked out of his chest. He struggled to draw in the next one, but his anguished body couldn't seem to function. The news of his beloved brother's death was devastating. He couldn't breath, couldn't think, wasn't even sure his heart was beating anymore. He felt a numbness like he'd never known before as if his soul had been ripped from his body leaving an empty carcass of flesh and bones, devoid of any existence that was once Sam Winchester. Tears quickly pooled in his still somewhat glossy eyes and rained down his pale, hopeless face. Sam looked away, not wanting the hunters to see his devastation.

"You bastard," Bobby hissed as the news of Dean's death staggered him as well. "You're both gonna rot in hell for this," he promised through clenched teeth.

Derek and Bracken stood in front of Sam and eyed the captured man with contempt.

"Doesn't seem like much, considering all your scary stories," Bracken mocked. "You really think this one's a demon soldier?"

Sam looked down, trying to dismiss their mocking words as he struggled to claimed his brother's instead…._chosen for a higher purpose, not for the demon. _He could still hear Dean's words in his head, spoken in his brother's voice, as the image of Dean sitting on the bed trying to rescue him from despair overwhelmed him. _ One hour at a time, Sammy,just give me one hour at a time _The words echoed through the now unguarded corridors of his empty heart His brother was gone and Sam knew he couldn't even make it one minute without him. Tears once again rained down, this time dripping hopelessly to the cold cement floor below his dangling feet.

"Is that what this is about? You assholes think that Sam is a demon soldier?" Bobby questioned exaggerating his tones to add to his surprised façade. He felt compelled to try to convince them that they had made a mistake in the hopes that maybe they would reconsider their warped assumptions and spare Sam. "PPfffhhhh, You guys are out of your minds!"

"Shut up old man," Derek snapped. "We know what he is."

"What d-do you w-want?" Sam's broken heart voiced expecting the same inquisition Jake had carried out at the roadhouse. If it weren't for his desire to save Bobby, he would have begged them for death right now. He and Dean were supposed to make it up the mountain together…no martyrs, but Dean was dead and Sam had no intention of trying to climb the damn thing himself.

"What do I want?" Derek hissed. "I want justice, damn it!" he spat.

"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby questioned irritated by the man's outrageous declaration. Everything happening was about as far from justice as it could get.

Derek got up in Sam's face, grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head to the side, and then delivered his message of contempt mere inches from his face as he pounded an accusing finger into the helpless hunter's flesh until it bruised and bled.

"You, you murderous demon loving bastard, are responsible for the deaths of fourteen descent men, hunters who devoted their entire lives to purging this world of evil shit like you!"

"Bullshit!" Bobby yelled out again. "_This _is evil! Your so called 'decent' men were trying to kill him, for gods sake," the protective man hollered."They were killed in self defense and that's not murder!"

Sam remained quiet. He knew it was pointless to try to reason with the hunters. It hadn't worked on Jake and his gang and he knew it wouldn't work on these two either. He appreciated Bobby's belief in him, but he feared it would only aggravate the warped men and endanger the older hunter's life.

"I said shut up you demon loving freak," Derek hissed as he started moving in Bobby's direction.

Sam knew he needed to draw their attentions away from the determined hunter who was trying to save him. Bobby did not fully realize the unimaginable cruelty these men were capable of, but Sam had seen it, been a victim of it, and he was willing to suffer anything to protect Bobby from their hate filled tyranny. He decided the best way to return their focus on himself was to enrage them. He knew this would almost be certain death for himself, but if he could engage them for a while, maybe Bobby could work his way free and get out.

"Save your breath, Bobby," Sam smoothly corrected toting the façade of arrogant sarcasm. "These assholes don't want to know the truth. They just want to kill me like their _dead _counterparts did," Sam coldly stated clearly trying to provoke them.

Bobby eyed the young hunter at first surprised that he would engage them so confrontationally. Then he realized Sam was running interference and he looked over to Derek to read his reaction.

Unfortunately, Sam's plan worked. The hunter's body literally stiffened, his teeth clenched, his eyes darkened, and he turned from Bobby and made a straight path for Sam.

The dangling, young, defenseless captive received a brutal blow to his mouth. His head was thrown back, his world spun, and his lip split instantly.

Sam thought of Dean, straightened his head, licked his lips and smiled just as Dean had, indicating that the hunter hit like a girl. He finally saw the humor in his brother's sarcastic behavior and whispered a laugh. He only hoped he would have his brother's courage as he faced the questions and torment that he knew lay moments away. The absence of his brother's presence made the situation unbearable and he tried to find some comfort in knowing Bobby was there to be with him through to the end.

The action of mocking the strength of his punch infuriated the already inflamed lynchman and he set his sights on destroying the hideous creature that hung before him.

"Let's do it!" Derek angrily declared to Bracken as he opened and closed his hand trying to relieve the pain he was experiencing from his contact with Sam's jaw bone. He wanted to make sure the supernatural freak paid for what he did to Jake and the others.

Derek produced a while piece of paper with what looked like a long list on it. Bracken moved in on Sam and duct taped his mouth shut.

Sam struggled to breathe through his nose as he hung, vulnerable, before the hunters waiting anxiously to find out exactly what "it" was. It made no sense for them to seal his mouth shut if they were going to interrogate him and he grew anxious that maybe these hunter's weren't interested in answers.

Derek made his way over to a duffle lying on the floor near the doorway and dug around for a bit. He returned moments later with a leather Cat-o'-nine tails curled in his hand, a rusty five foot chain and a six inch blade.

Sam squirmed as he eyed the 'Cat' and anxiously glanced over to Bobby who began struggling furiously with his bindings.

Bobby knew all too well that the multi-tailed weapon would savagely lacerate Sam's skin, slicing the flesh to the bone and causing the young man, he loved as a son, intense, excruciating pain. He also knew the cruel weapon would eventually claim the innocent Winchester's life. His bindings were too tight and he was unable to free himself. He felt despair and helplessness as he waited in fear for the knotted leather chords to come into contact with the boy's skin.

Derek handed the chain to Bracken and nodded. The hunter grasped one end and looped it once around his fist to get a good grip, then moved to stand beside Sam.

The defenseless young hunter glanced nervously back and forth between them not really knowing who he should keep his eye on.

Derek began reading the list.

"Samuel, Freakin Supernatural, Hunter Murdering, Winchester. You are charged with the brutal death of Jake Wyman."

The accusation echoed throughout the empty warehouse creating a chorus of accusations coming from all directions.

_Murdering…murdering…..murder….er _

Sam's eyes grew wide as he realized he was being placed on trial for the deaths of the lynching mob.

"How do you plead you evil…_evil…evil_, son of a bitch?"…_of a bitch..of a bitch_ the hunter's voice cruelly boomed out with contempt as he glared at Sam with hatred in his eyes. The words echoed back his condemnation.

The defenseless Winchester shook his head and tried to speak, but his words were too stifled to be understood behind the unyielding tape that sealed them in.

Bracken leaned in pretending to try to understand Sam's words and then translated. "He pleads _guilty_," he sarcastically bellowed.

Derek uncurled the 'Cat" and smiled with delight as he caressed the weapons throngs in anticipation of the damage they would cause to Sam's bare back. He slowly and deliberately sauntered around to the back of the his hanging prisoner and placed his hand, fingers spread out on Sam's right shoulder and drew his hand downward digging his nails deep into Sam's exposed back as if outlining exactly where he was going to exact his punishment.

Sam flinched when Derek's hand first made contact with his skin, not knowing if it was the start of the Cat's first strike. Upon realizing it wasn't, he shuddered with the hunter's prophetic touch and gritted his teeth as his skin burned in response.

"Do you know why I chose the 'Cat' first?" Derek asked viciously.

Sam didn't attempt to answer. It wasn't that he didn't know the history of the weapon. He and Dean had been told by Pastor Jim that it was used long ago on wrong doers who went against God. He just didn't want to give the hunter any acknowledgement.

"I thought so," Derek whispered as he sensed Sam's understanding. "Perfect choice for a demon soldier, don't you think?" he questioned as he grabbed the weapon's braided handle and flicked it out to the side of Sam to intimidate him.

Sam didn't answer. The little boy in him wanted his father; the younger sibling in him wanted Dean. Always before, he'd had Dean to comfort him, to let him know what to do, to give him sympathy and assurance, to protect him. But this time, Dean couldn't come. God, he desperately missed his brother. _Dean, I can't do this without you_ his heart cried out.

Comfort finally came to the despairing younger man in the form of knowing that he'd be joining his brother soon, and he hoped it was somewhere at the top of the mountain he and his brother had been planning to climb together. He looked over to Bobby to draw strength from his presence in his brother's absence.

Bobby's brow wrinkled in despair as he knew there was nothing he could do to help the youngest Winchester and it pained him to see the acceptance on Sam's face that he was going to die.

Sam detected Derek's motion behind him, took as deep a breath as his hanging frame would allow, and braced himself. Seconds later, Derek's implement of torture cracked its judgment across Sam's innocent body.

Sam felt the flash of searing white pain, the intensity of which was indescribably, as the Cat-o'-nine tail's long, knotted fingers ripped through his flesh searching out his bones. His head flew back as his body arched, trying desperately to move away from the agonizing sensation that was unraveling him. Sam's eyes instinctively squeezed shut and stung with tears as the excruciating pain splintered across his over stretched back. His body screamed out, though the sound was muffled by the web of sticky fabric that was plastered across his anguished face. He felt his warm blood bubble out of the shredded valleys in his brutalized skin and drizzle down his back as his open wound cried blood red tears.

Bobby, horrified by the sight of John's youngest being viciously brutalized, had to turn his head away. He'd seen atrocious things in his lifetime, having hunted evil for most of it, but witnessing the mutilation of this beloved Winchester was more than he could bear.

Wanting to offer Sam support should he need it, he consciously overrode his instinct to deny what was happening and forced himself to look at Sam's damaged body, bleeding and racked with pain.

Derek lowered the whip, grabbed Sam by the top of his hair bending his head back beyond its intended limits, and declared loudly in his ear, "That was for Jake!"

Bobby felt the anger that had been simmering inside of him suddenly reach its boiling point and he exploded, spewing curses at the hunters with all he had in him.

Derek passed the list to Bracken and sauntered over to the infuriated man.

Sam's body shook with pain long after the leather strips had lacerated his skin. Chills surged through him as his body responded in shock. Confusion, pain, and fear overwhelmed him. Had it not been for the cursing shouts of Bobby's seething voice, he would have slipped into unconsciousness. Instead, he pushed past the excruciating pain and forced his eyes open to locate his family friend and see if he was alright.

As he watched Derek approach Bobby, the Cat still dangling from his cruel hand, Sam began to panic. Fearful of what the vengeful hunter might do, Sam struggled with his bindings and attempted to beg for his friend's life.

Derek, inspired by Sam's efforts to prevent the older hunter's suffering, deliberately and spitefully punched and kicked the cursing hunter until he finally lost consciousness. The hunter held back the Cat-o'-nine tails for the specific purpose it was intended for, to punish the evil doer, and luckily, for Bobby, he was not judged to be one, at least not yet.

Sam cursed the two with every word he could think of, but the duct tape merely turned his words into mutterings.

Derek turned around and walked arrogantly back to Sam and assaulted him violently in the face.

Sam's head once again was thrown, twice backwards, once sideways. His nose began to bleed forming two red river trails down across his duct taped mouth to his chin.

Derek grabbed the list back from Bracken and began again.

"Samuel, Demon Soldier of Death and Destruction, Winchester….You are charged with the brutal and vile murders of Kyle and Joseph Berg," the angered hunter bellowed out furiously.

Once again a chorus of accusations echoed off the walls and glass windows and returned to condemn the falsely accused, last of his family, young man.

Derek cracked the Cat mere inches from Sam's body and delighted in watching him flinch in anticipation of its contact. He eagerly anticipated Sam's punishment for the deaths of Kyle and Joseph, two young brothers he had been quite fond of and he once again planted his palm flat down on Sam's damaged back and dragged his nails downward twice, mapping out the weapon's next two severely punishing strikes.

Sam gasped in pain as the hunter's cruel fingers dug into the bloody lacerations and finger painted the viscous fluid seeping out of them, down his back. Sam's pained expressions were once again absorbed by the dense fabric tape that sealed them in.

"How does your despicable, evil ass plead?" Bracken questioned mockingly as Derek wiped his bloody fingers on Sam's cheek.

Derek raised his whip before Bracken had even finished the question, not caring to hear the answer or give Sam the dignity of a muffled response.

Sam, hopeless, helpless, and devastated dropped his head and closed his eyes, once again anticipating the excruciating pain he knew was coming. His only hope was that the two whippings might somehow claim his life as he longed to join his brother on the other side.

TBC


	25. Trials and Tribulations

**Previously:**

"You are also charged with the brutal murders of Kyle and Joseph Berg," Bracken announced.

Sam gasped in pain as the hunter's cruel fingers dug into the bloody lacerations and finger painted the viscous fluid seeping out of them, down his back. Sam's pained expressions were once again absorbed by the dense fabric tape that sealed them in.

"How does your despicable, evil ass plead?" Bracken questioned mockingly as Derek wiped his bloody fingers on Sam's cheek.

Derek raised his whip before Bracken had even finished the question, not caring to hear the answer or give Sam the dignity of a muffled response.

Sam, hopeless, helpless, and devastated dropped his head and closed his eyes, once again anticipating the excruciating pain he knew was coming. His only hope was that the two whippings might somehow claim his life as he longed to join his brother on the other side.

**Chapter 2**

Dean grew anxious as he checked his watch. It had been almost an hour since he and Joshua had left the apartment to head for the warehouse in hopes of rescuing Sam in time. Each minute had ticked by slowly and painfully, as thoughts of what might be happening to his little brother tortured his worried mind.

He had no idea how many hunters were involved. The thought of Sam facing a warehouse of hateful, malicious hunters torturing him was terrifying. Bracken had used the word 'partner' back at the apartment and Dean could only hope that it was just he and Derek who had taken his little brother.

Dean checked his watch again. One hour. _Damn it_. Part of him hoped Bracken and Derek did an inquisition first, at least that would buy he and Joshua time to get to Sam before they sentenced him to death, and part of him feared that his brother might not even make it through an inquisition. Sam was stronger, but his strength and stamina were far from normal and emotionally the kid seemed to be doing pretty well, but this situation had to have thrown his brother into one hell of an emotional tailspin.

After what felt like an eternity to Dean, Joshua finally pulled off the highway and headed down towards the bay. As they began their ascent towards the warehouses and the waterfront, Dean was able to get a good feel for the layout of the area. There was a main street that paralleled the water. Its pot-holed, single lane road was surrounded on both sides by warehouses. Some appeared to be in good shape and still in use, others were clearly abandoned and in disrepair. For an industrial area in early afternoon, the place seemed almost deserted.

To Dean's relief, Joshua finally pulled into an unpaved parking lot between two abandoned warehouses. Dean followed close behind along with a large cloud of dust that was tailing him. He leaned forward toward his front windshield and quickly scanned the warehouses before him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother through a window. The sun reflected off the broken panes making them impossible to see through.

Joshua skidded to a halt. Dean spun his wheel and skidded up beside him. The cloud of dust that had been following continued on, wafting over both cars as it made its way to the pier before being swept ten feet downward by a slight breeze coming in off the bay. Both men hopped out of their vehicles and circled around to their hidden arsenals. Within minutes, both were ready, duffels filled, and weaponry in hand.

"The warehouse is one block north of here," Joshua explained as he leaned over and drew a rectangular diagram in the dirt . "It's empty, been cleaned out. One main door, two side entrances, three loading docks," he added as he pointed out the location of each in the dirt. "There's an office section with four rooms here," he pointed to the upper section of the diagram. "It's a bit of a maze, but all the hallways lead to the main part of the warehouse through these doors," he added pointing to the two short lines he'd placed in the middle of the dusty drawing. "The rest of the building is completely open with broken windows all around the top. Based on what I saw, they'll be in the main part of the warehouse over here." Joshua pointed down to the lower left, near one of the side doors.

Dean nodded. "What did you see?" he asked anxiously, having just heard the hunter declare the warehouse was empty.

Joshua sighed. " Weapons, cuffs, chains, a list……."

"A list?" Dean interrupted curious the hunter would mention it. "Of what?"

"The hunters that were killed at the roadhouse and the hospital. Gordon's name was on it, Jake's, Tommy's. There were fourteen in all."

Dean's blood chilled. "You think, what, that they're…"

"I think they're gonna punish your brother for all fourteen deaths," the hunter flatly stated.

Dean's eyes doubled in size as the thought of his brother suffering the revenge of fourteen killed, burned anger in his heart. "Sons of Bitches! Dean infuriatingly declared. "Bastards beat the shit out of him, nearly kill him and they're blaming him for fighting back?"

Dean looked briefly away not wanting Joshua to see the tears of fear that stung in his eyes.

"This ends today," Dean ordered through clenched teeth. "I want them taken out! No jail, no mercy, just taken out!" the oldest Winchester growled.

Joshua studied Dean for a moment fully aware that the hunter was going against Sam's wishes.

Dean looked at Joshua defensively. "If we let them live, they'll always be a threat to him and he'll never be safe," he stated clearly, wishing he had made Joshua take the two out right from the beginning. He loved Sam and his compassion, but by holding back and waiting for the hunters to make their moves, his little brother was once again thrown into their grips, a position Dean could not allow to happen again. "Whatever it takes, this ends today."

Joshua nodded in complete agreement.

"You ready?" Joshua asked wanting to know for sure Dean's mind was clear and in the game. To hunt emotionally impassioned can be a help or a hindrance. Rage and anger can make you stronger, but they can also cloud your vision.

"Let's do it!" Dean stated adamantly, fully aware of the effects emotions can have on a hunt. He understood the hunter's question and knew he could keep his emotions under control.

Dean quickly rose and took off in the direction Joshua had indicated. The oversized man hoisted his duffle strap higher on his shoulder and took off behind him.

oooOOOooo

As the two hunters reached the next block, Dean slowed and waited for Joshua to point out the right warehouse. There were two side by side, both appeared abandoned based on their broken windows, rusty exteriors, and the mess of dumped trash and broken crates stacked and scattered along the sides.

Joshua fingered the second and the two hunters moved in immediately and cased the place. Everything was exactly as Joshua had described. Neither hunter could get a clear visual on the area Joshua had indicated Sam would probably be in, so they decided to approach from the opposite side of the building by the office area, hoping it would offer them cover as they attempted to locate Sam and Bobby and rescue them.

Using a pocket knife, Dean slipped the blade between the window frames of the front left office and turned the lock open. He tugged on the window to open it, but it refused to budge, having been painted shut years earlier. Dean pushed harder along the edges of the unyielding frame and it eventually let go with a loud crack. Both Joshua and Dean paused, leaned back to the outside wall hidden from view and shared a nervous look. They waited for a moment, but when there was no indication that anyone was investigating, they returned to their positions and slid the window open.

Dean entered first, silently scaling down the wall to the floor. He did a quick scan of the room and then turned to receive his gear. Joshua passed the overstuffed duffle through the window. Next the hunter dropped his gear down to Dean. By the time the older hunter's foot touched the floor of the office, Dean was armed and making a visual on the hallway.

He turned and gestured towards the right as he could hear voices off in that direction. The voices paused and a loud crack suddenly split the silence. Dean couldn't place the sound, but it was familiar and ominous. Whatever it was, a voice began furiously cursing, only moments later to be silenced.

Dean and Joshua's pulses raced as they recognized the voice to be Bobby's.

Dean looked over to Joshua, who was now armed and zipping up his duffle. The hunter slung it back over his shoulder and prepared to follow Dean out into the hallway.

The two men bolted down the hallway, desperate to get to the main room. The hallway suddenly split in two directions. A fire plan on the wall indicated that both lead to the open space Joshua had indicated Sam and Bobby would most likely be. Dean gestured that he'd go right and that Joshua should go left. He held up five fingers indicating that they would both do surveillance and return to make a plan in five minutes. Joshua acknowledged and headed left while Dean disappeared off to the right.

On their way, both heard voices again, but neither of them were Sam's or Bobby's.

Dean crouched down as he neared the end of the hallway. A door with a broken window stood between him and where he wanted to be. Wanting to gain an understanding of how many hunters were involved and his brother's predicament, he laid low and waited, straining to listen. So far he counted two voices, one of which he recognized as Bracken's, the soon to be dead conspiracy theorist.

"...charged with the brutal and vile murders ..._vile_ _murders...vile murders_...of Kyle and Joseph Berg... _Berg...Berg_! How does your evil, despicable ass plead..._ass plead...ass plead_?" an unfamiliar voice questioned mockingly.

Chills ran up his spine as he heard the accusing words shouted out in a mock trial form and returning over and over again in an echoed chorus. He knew they were aimed at his brother and it infuriated him. He strained to hear Sam's plea of not guilty and it terrified him when it didn't come.

"crack"

"What the f….?" Dean whispered when he heard the ominous sound. "Shit!" Horrifying anguish enveloped him when he finally recognized the weapon's sound. It was unmistakable. The way the nine knotted ends cracked within seconds of each other…Dean knew it was a cat-o'-nine tails.

He frantically threw his back flat against the wall and stealthily slid upwards to take a look. He didn't care if there were a hundred hunters in the damn place, he would not allow his brother to suffer the severe physical torture of a Cat. He held his weapon tight to his chest and blinked repeatedly trying to clear the panicked tears that stung in his eyes.

What he saw steeled his nerves and shattered his heart. The scene looked like something from one of Dean's nightmares, only this time, it was real. His little brother was suspended off the cold cement floor, shirtless and bound, streaks of torn flesh ran from his right shoulder down to his left jean belt loop, crimson blood dripped in tiny, river like-paths down his back and pooled on the waistband of his jeans. Sam was facing away, but he could see his brother's head was down on his chest and not moving. His eyes searched his brother's sides to see if could detect his ribcage expanding to indicate he was breathing. If Sam was, the movement was undetectable.

He quickly surveyed the warehouse and to his relief found only the two hunters. Bracken was standing beside Sam with a long chain partially wrapped around his fisted hand; Derek stood with the Cat-o'-nine tails in his hand behind Sam, the throngs of which were slick with his brother's blood. He quickly scanned the rest of the place, but could see no sign of Bobby from his position. Unaware of Joshua's position, he was hopeful that the hunter could see and cover Bobby.

He quickly glanced at his watch. Two minutes left until he was supposed to rendezvous with Joshua. Dean's eyebrows furrowed. He didn't dare leave his position for fear Sam would suffer another flogging in his absence and he hoped Joshua had decided the same thing.

Dean steadied his piece preparing to take his first shot. He aimed for Bracken's head hoping to have a more personal confrontation with Derek later, one that included forcing the bastard's face through the back of his head after turning his own Cat on him first, one strike for each Sam had suffered and then a couple of more.

"He pleads guilty..._guilty...guilty_!" Bracken declared cruelly mocking his helpless prisoner.

Derek raised his arm up preparing to wield the multi-tailed implement of punishment at Sam.

Dean acted on instinct. No thought was involved.

"ffffftt,

Hanging with his eyes closed, waiting for the double strike he knew was coming, Sam heard the familiar sound of a .45 discharging, followed by a gasp from behind him and the boneless thump of Derek's lifeless body against the cold cement floor.

Rapid fire exchanges followed as Dean and Joshua moved in on Bracken. The rescuing hunters' gunfire was suddenly halted when Bracken dove for a position behind Sam, attempting to use his hanging prisoner as a shield, while continuing to fire on Dean and Bobby. Both hunters dropped flat to the floor with their weapons trained, but neither could take a shot without hitting Sam.

Dean felt pure fear as he watched helplessly as Bracken stopped firing and placed his piece up against Sam's forehead while still remaining shielded by his brother's damaged frame.

Sam felt the hot metal barrel, that had been recently fired, burn as it was butted up against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut anticipating the shot and couldn't help but wonder if he would even hear the blast before his tore through his skull.

"I'll shoot him..._shoot him...shoot him_! I swear.._swear...swear_! Drop your weapons..._your weapons...your weapons,_ now.._now...now_!" Bracken's voice boomed out, his threat echoing over and over within the walls of the warehouse.

Dean grimaced and looked frantically over at Joshua who was already looking at him as the remaining echoes dissipated.

The seasoned hunter gestured for Dean to wait in the hopes that maybe the eldest Winchester could take a shot as Joshua openly surrendered. He laid down his weapon dramatically and slowly rose with his hands up and out to show Bracken he was no longer a threat.

Unfortunately, Bracken would not be distracted, instead he held his position and threat over Sam's life.

"Eeeeeasy," Joshua's deep voice called out soothingly, trying to keep the hunter from killing Sam.

"You too.._too...too_!" Bracken called over to Dean who was desperately trying to get a clean shot.

Sam lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes when he heard the mention of another person. He had recognized Joshua's voice and dared to hope the other person with him was Dean. He strained to hear through the frantic thumping of his blood rushing through his ears for that one voice that could make him dare to hope to live another hour.

The eldest Winchester finally set his piece on the floor and rose slowly with his arms gesturing surrender.

"Kick your weapons forward…_forward…forward_!" Bracken's voice commanded. .

Dean eyed his piece and reluctantly kicked it forward. Joshua did the same.

"Turn around..._round...round_, both of you_,..you...you_, backs to me_...me..me,"_ Bracken ordered demandingly.

Both hunters hesitated.

In anger, Bracken struck Sam on the head with the butt of his gun, shoved the now cooler barrel to his chest by his heart, and reiterated his command.

"No.._no...no_!" Dean called out angrily when he saw his brother brutalized.

Sam's head was thrown back, ice cold pain spread across his face traveling upward, outward, and through to the back of his skull. A brief wave of dizziness disoriented him.

Though the assault should have brought devastation and despair to the already tortured young man, it didn't. Instead, upon hearing his brother's voice, Sam's hopelessness, which had been paralyzing, suddenly mutated, taking on a new form…one of purpose, to make sure his greatest fear didn't become a reality. He had lost his brother once today, he would not lose him again. He mentally grabbed hold of his spinning world and stilled it, then looked directly at Bracken and began calculating.

Bracken shifted nervously when he saw the change in Sam's demeanor, but his arrogance, as well as the weapon he had trained on his prisoner's chest, offered him a false sense of security, one that would ultimately lead to his undoing.

Dean and Joshua turned, not wanting Sam to have to pay for their hesitations again.

Dean bit his lip nervously as his heart beat frantically in his chest. He had no idea what the sadistic hunter would do. Surrendering didn't guarantee the bastard wouldn't shoot Sam out right or that he wouldn't take Joshua and him out, leaving Sam alone to be tortured to death. He waited in fear as he anticipated the hunter's next action.

Confident that he had once again disarmed and subdued the mighty Winchester brothers, Bracken removed his weapon from Sam's chest deciding he would bind the two additional hunters and give them front row seats for the trial and execution of his captured demon soldier.

The second the barrel cleared Sam's body, the wounded hunter grabbed onto the rope above his bound hands, and with all the abdominal strength he could muster, raised his legs up, placed his feet on the center of the distracted hunter's chest and shoved with all of his might.

While Sam's hanging position made him absorb some of the force causing his body to swing painfully backward, the majority of it went forward propelling the arrogant hunter into the air, off his feet, where he slammed into the unyielding wall that shadowed him.

Bracken's weapon flew out of his hand, skidded across the floor, and smacked into the exit door a few feet away, finding a stopping place just inside the frame.

Sam tried to holler out to let his brother know he could recover his weapon and defend himself, but the duct tape refused to cooperate. Fortunately, a muffled sound somehow escaped through the unforgiving utility fabric and tipped Dean off to make his move.

Bracken frantically attempted to regain his footing, but ended up on the floor in a heap. The panicked hunter quickly scrambled to retrieve his fallen weapon by the door and began firing at Joshua and Dean who had recovered their pieces and were putting the hunter in their sights. He was too far away to shield himself behind the tortured Winchester, and as the bullets threatened to fly, he ducked out the side door to disappear into the warehouse district just beyond it.

"He's mine," Joshua growled as he took off with lightening speed through the door, knowing Dean would want to tend to Sam and Bobby.

oooOOOooo

"Sammy?" Dean called out as he bolted to his little brother in record time.

Sam hung helplessly, unable to respond, and waited for this brother to appear.

"Aw, no," he sighed deeply distressed when he saw his brother's bloodied face and mouth taped shut. It wasn't so much that the tape was offensive. Dean had considered taping Sam's mouth shut a couple of times before. It was the symbolism…the idea that Sam could not defend himself in the trial nor that he had a right to, that Dean found incredibly disturbing.

When Sam first saw his brother, his eyes instantly teared up and he began trying to talk through the duct tape. His mutterings sounded like muffled sobs, though they were actually words of relief that his brother was alive.

Dean misunderstood Sam's reaction to be that of pain and despair and his heart ached to see his little brother so emotionally distraught.

"S'okay, Sammy," Dean cooed softly. "Easy, now. You're alright."

"Let me get this off, okay?" Dean offered tenderly as he slowly removed the tape, trying not to pain his brother more than necessary.

Sam's eyes continued to tear as the relief, fear, and pain he was enduring surfaced and took him. The tears that had been pooling finally flooded his eyelids and rained down his battered cheeks.

Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam's neck and gently moved his thumbs across his jaw bone as his eyes soaked in his brother while trying to comfort him. "It's okay, little brother," he tried to assure his momentarily broken sibling. "You're gonna be okay," Dean whispered gently as his eyes searched back and forth between his brother's trying to reach inside to his spirit and offer his little brother comfort and hope.

As Dean tried to reach into Sam's soul, he found his little brother searching him as well and, overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes soon became blurry with tears too. He moved his hand up to his brother's cheeks and wiped his tears away with his thumbs and sniffed.

Sam's body, cold and in shock, trembled. The shiver caused him to wince in pain as it twitched the sliced muscles in his damaged back. Sam, his face still in his brother's hands, squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to ride out the pain.

Dean winced sympathetically. "Easy, Sammy," Dean cooed again feeling helpless as he removed his hands and looked up to see how he could free his brother and ease his pain.

Sam reopened his eyes, looked at Dean and tried to speak.

"I th-thought you w-were d-dead," Sam whispered out shivering.

Dean glanced back down at his little brother. Sam's bloody lip, swollen nose and pain filled eyes pulled on Dean's heart.

"You know me, Sammy. I don't die that easily," Dean quipped with a crooked smile.

Sam nodded. It was true. Dean had escaped death more times than he could count.

The eldest sibling once again began studying his brother's situation trying to determine the best way to get his little brother down. The ropes were tightly bound, cutting deep into Sam's wrists as gravity used his weight against him.

A shudder passed through Sam, jostling his torn back and reopening the little capillaries that had been willing to close. His back burned unbearably. Had he not had the company of his brother's presence, he would have given in to the pain and allowed it to consume him dragging him into an unconscious nothingness. Instead, Sam tensed and tried to ride out the pain.

"Easy," Dean offered sympathetically when he saw his brother suffering from his injuries.

Sam gasped as a sharp, searing pain took him.

"I know," he added placing his hand back on his brother's neck, hoping to let his brother know he was not alone in his anguish.

"Let's get you down, huh? Take a look your back?" Dean offered hoping that somehow he might be able to do something to alleviate his little brother's suffering.

Dean reached up and gently testing the ropes to see if there was enough room to slip the blade between Sam's wrists and hands without cutting them.

Sam's hands were cold to the touch and discolored from the lack of circulation and he found them painful to be touched. Sam flinched when his brother's fingers made contact as they tested the bindings.

"Hurt?" Dean asked as he winced with his brother.

Sam nodded as the painful prickling continued long after his brother had ceased his contact. Sam tried to wiggle his fingers, but this time they wouldn't respond.

"I'm gonna cut you down, okay?" Dean explained almost apologetically knowing it would be very painful for his little brother.

"G-Go check on B-Bobby, first," Sam whispered. "He's h-hurt, Dean."

"I'll check on him in a minute, okay. I want to get you down first," Dean explained.

"No D-Dean, now. They b-beat him c-cuz of m-me," Sam offered sadly. "I n-need to know if –f he's o-okay."

Dean frowned at his brother's selflessness and hesitated. Dean was concerned about Bobby, but his priority was Sam. Bracken could come back any minute, and his little brother's helpless position would make him an easy target.

Sam's pleading eyes offered Dean little choice.

"Okay," he signed, "but I'll be right back."

Sam nodded.

Dean ran and checked Bobby over quickly. The hunter was unconscious, clearly bruised with a few possible cracked ribs, but his pulse, respirations and pupils looked good. Nothing appeared life threatening and he quickly returned to Sam.

"He's hurt, but okay. We'll get you down and then take care of him," Dean instructed.

Sam nodded in relief as another wave of cold shivered through him.

Dean removed his knife from his wrist sheath, reached up, and slipped it under the rope between his hands, being careful to avoid his brother's exposed wrists. He slowly began sawing the blade back and forth pulling outward to cut the fibers. He applied enough pressure to make progress, but not enough to slice through quickly, fearing to do so would drop Sam to the floor before he could catch him and ease him down.

Sam shivered and gasped periodically as waves of pain washed over him. Through it all, Sam remained unusually quiet as he waited to be freed.

"You okay?" Dean asked worried about the unusual silence his brother was projecting.

"Th-they s-said you w-were d-dead, Dean…" the youngest sibling's voice hitched as he still felt the despair, from the perceived loss, lingering even though Dean stood right in front of him.

Dean paused, nodded with understanding, and rested his forehead on Sam's, trying to offer his obviously troubled brother a moment of comfort, recognizing the agony Sam had suffered when he believed his big brother was dead. Dean had felt the sting of that same fear so many times himself and knew it lingered and played with your mind.

He pulled his head away and smiled.

"Not me little brother," Dean softly reassured as he looked directly in Sam's troubled eyes. "We got a mountain to climb together, remember?"

Sam whispered a laugh and smiled, relieved that things had not ended in tragedy like he had expected. "J-Just bad l-luck again?" Sam questioned as he shivered from the cold and his body being in shock.

"Yep, this time they had Bobby," Dean explained as an excuse as to why they were once again in a nearly screwed situation. He returned to sawing his brother's bindings. "And there won't be a next time. Me and Joshua will make sure of that."

He tugged at the ropes to gage his progress and accidently bumped against Sam, jostling his body and tortured back.

Sam gasped and closed his eyes as the pain caused a wave of nausea and lightheadedness to wash over him.

"Damn, Sammy, I'm sorry," Dean whispered as he angrily cursed himself for not being more careful.

Sam remained silent with his eyes closed as he tried to manage his pain. His complexion paled considerably and Dean knew the pain was near overwhelming for him.

"Hey little brother, stay with me, okay?" Dean encouraged when he saw his brother fading. He began sawing more aggressively trying to get him down before he lost consciousness.

"Can you talk to me? Huh? How's the back?" Dean asked as he continued struggling to free his traumatized brother.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean, but didn't answer. The answer was obvious.

"Hurts like hell," Dean sighed as he answered for his little brother.

Sam nodded and looked at his brother's bloodied face.

"D-Did Bracken d-do all th-that?"

"Bastard got lucky," Dean joked wishing he could get lucky and get the damn bindings to give so he could get his little brother down and more comfortable.

Dean circled around behind Sam to work on the ropes from a different angle when he was unable to saw all the way through from the front without cutting him. The height made it difficult for him to get a good amount of pressure to speed the process and there was nothing available to climb on to get better leverage.

His stomached sickened when he took in his little brother's mauled back.

"Jeezus," Dean whispered as he laid his hands gently on the unshredded skin on either side of the bloodied trails that traveled endlessly down Sam's back.

Sam flinched when his back was touched, not because Dean had hurt him, but more as a reflex.

Dean instantly removed his hands. "Sorry, little brother," Dean apologized.

Sam nodded. His brother owed him no apology nor would he ever. He was too thankful that Dean was alive to ever take offense with anything he ever did again.

Dean wiped his face. "We're gonna need to do some serious stitching when we get back, kiddo."

"Y-Yeah," Sam answered finding that talking and even breathing tugged savagely on the torn skin as it expanded and contracted with the movement of his ribcage.

Dean returned his attentions to the task at hand and finally found a spot where he could get some leverage to pull the knife through.

Sam's body was trembling uncontrollably not only from the lingering pain and bone chilling cold, but in reaction to the trauma he had suffered and Dean worried that Sam's unintentional movements might cause him to slip.

"Easy, Sammy. You think maybe you could try to be still. I don't want to accidently cut you," Dean asked sympathetically.

Sam nodded and tried to still his body, but he could gain no control over it.

Dean recognized it was not possible and he put his hand gently on his brother's shoulder for a moment. The quiet, gentle touch seemed to still him some. Dean then made his way back around to the front of his brother to finish off the final cuts to get his brother released.

"You know…I'm th-thinking bad l-luck doesn't usually s-strike in the s-same place this m-many times. M-maybe I'm c-cursed," Sam whispered out with a slight upward turn of the corners of his mouth.

"You and me both little brother," Dean jested back as he felt Sam's ropes finally starting to give.

One last cut and the bindings gave way. Dean caught his falling brother in his arms, locking his elbows to hook under Sam's underarms so he could gently ease him down. He was careful not to touch his damaged back.

Sam allowed himself to fall into Dean's embrace and the two lingered for a brief moment as if in a hug. Both brothers smiled, relieved the other had survived the horrible ordeal.

Seconds later, Dean moved Sam gently back and lowered him to the floor eager to assess his brother's condition.

The younger sibling gasped and winced with the changes in position as he was eased down onto his side by his brother.

Dean leaned down and looked in his eyes. "You okay?" he seriously asked.

Sam took a strained breath and with teary eyes, nodded. He rubbed his painfully sore wrists and tried to get the blood circulating back into his fingers.

Dean joined in trying to help Sam. The blood rushed in and intense pain soon followed. Sam quickly withdrew his hands wanting to avoid having them touched until the feeling returned to normal because it was too painful.

Dean noticed his withdrawal. "Hurts?"

Sam nodded. Both brothers knew once the blood settled in, the pain would subside. Sam was surprised his left hand could feel any pain and though it wasn't pleasant, he couldn't help but be somewhat pleased.

Sam shivered again.

Dean offered his jacket, but Sam declined knowing it would be too painful to put anything against his back.

After regaining the feeling in his hands, Sam attempted to sit up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you stay down. Let me look at your back," Dean directed as he placed a firm hand on his brother's arm to keep him down.

"B-Bobby," Sam shivered back.

Dean hopped over his brother and began to take a closer look at Sam's back. "We'll check him in a minute." His fingers ghosted over the gashes not wanting to make contact for fear of paining or infecting the open wounds. He eventually laid his fingers along side each one and gently separated the flesh to gage the damage.

Sam hissed in pain and shook when each of the nine lacerations were inspected. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to the point of drawing blood trying to allow his brother's examination.

Dean felt waves of nausea as he struggled with seeing the intensity of the damage on his little brother's back and knowing he was causing his brother such pain.

Dean sat back on his feet, wiped his hand across his face, and sighed.

"W-well?" Sam shivered out.

Dean frowned not really wanting to tell his brother he was screwed and due for stitches and more months of recuperation and therapy, but he circled around in front of him, crouched down and reported what he saw truthfully, knowing Sam had a right to know.

Sam raised his head slightly and looked in his brother's eyes. He could tell the news wasn't good.

"One just broke the skin, two went pretty deep... to muscle, three went through the muscle, and three look like they went to bone in some places," Dean described painfully as his stomach turned in knots. He was amazed his brother was even conscious with the amount of pain he had to be suffering.

Sam laid his head down on the cement floor, closed his eyes and nodded trying bravely to receive his brother's diagnosis. The pain matched the intensity of the injuries.

Dean put his hand on his brother's head and stroked it once.

"We need to get you to a hospital, kiddo," Dean concluded.

"B-Bobby," Sam whispered out again as he raised his head back up. "Help me up, okay?"

"What?! Sam, no," Dean cautioned not wanting his brother to be moving around further damaging his already mauled back.

Sam rolled over onto his stomach and attempted to push himself up. Blood bubbled out of his wounds with his movements.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean hissed as he reached out and helped his stubborn brother to his feet. He knew it was pointless to try to prevent his brother from going to the family friend.

Sam swayed a bit, but steadied fairly quickly and, with Dean's help, the two made their way over to Bobby who was still unconscious on the warehouse floor.

Sam chose to stand above the hunter not wanting to bend or move in any way to aggravate his back. Dean crouched down and began to check the hunter out again.

Bobby stirred upon contact and, though a little disoriented, appeared to be okay.

Upon seeing the boys alive, Bobby's pained face broke into a broad smile and his sense of humor came pouring out.

"Aw, hell," the hunter boldly quipped as he looked at the two boys with great relief.

Both Sam and Dean were surprised by the hunter's first words and looked at him with raised eyebrows expecting an explanation.

Bobby smiled. "I was hoping to die and go to heaven, not hell," he clarified affectionately as he looked upon the wonderful faces of the boys, alive, and free. "Looks like I missed my stop."

"You're too damn grouchy to make it to heaven," Dean teased back as he began to cut the sarcastic hunter's bindings.

Sam smiled, amused by the friendly banter and glad to see the family friend was okay.

Bobby separated his freed hands and began working them to get the circulation back. He glanced up at Dean.

"Damn, Dean. You're a hell of a lot better looking as a dead guy than you ever were when you were alive," the overly happy hunter muttered out finding the young Winchester a sight for sore and black eyes. He was relieved as all get out that he hadn't lost the boy.

"I can tie you back up, smart a.."

"Dean," Sam whispered not wanting to allow his brother to disrespect the older hunter.

Dean frowned and rolled his eyes at his brother's interruption. He moved in to check out Bobby's wounds, but the old hunter brushed his attentions away.

"You okay?" Sam asked with concern.

"Been better, but m'good. You?"

Sam nodded

"Like hell you are," he muttered sadly. His eyes shone with sympathy and he turned to Dean. "Is he okay?" he asked seriously. He'd seen the whipping and feared for Sam's life. It was taking him a moment to reconcile what he expected to see with what he was seeing.

"He's in pain, seven lacerations need stitching, three went to bone in some places," Dean answered honestly, jumping right into his and Bobby's 'take care of Sammy' mode.

"Damn, Sam. I'm sorry son," Bobby offered in sympathy.

"He needs medical attention," Dean added letting the hunter know just how serious Sam's injuries were. Bobby nodded in agreement as he attempted to stand up having been freed from his bindings. Dean offered him a hand, but he used the wall to rise instead.

"Like you don't," Sam muttered back not wanting to be the topic of discussion..

"Oh great, you girls are at it again. Sheesh. What's a hunter got to do to get some peace?"

'Definitely don't hang out with us," Dean declared as he eyed his family before him, thankful all were alive. Sam was hurt, but okay for the moment, Bobby was even better. Both were capable of defending themselves if needed and Bracken was still out there. Dean knew Sam would have no peace if the huntsman was allowed to get away and he was determined not to let that happen.

"Can you handle him?" Dean questioned Bobby sincerely with his hand gently on his brother's shoulder. He hated to leave Sam while in such pain.

Sam and Bobby nodded. Each thinking Dean's question was addressed to him. Both were focused more on the other's injuries over his own and both were willing to do whatever was needed to protect the other.

"Stay here and lay low. Me and Joshua will be back and get you both to the hospital. Anybody comes through those doors except us, you shoot first, ask questions later. If I'm not back in thirty minutes, take Sam and get the hell out of here," Dean insisted as he threw his piece to Bobby and took off with his duffle towards the door.

"Dean, no!" Sam called suddenly realizing his brother was going after Bracken. At first he had thought his brother's instructions were for them while Dean got the Impala and returned. When he realized his brother was going to be gunning for Bracken, he began to panic.

"Gotta Sammy," Dean winked apologetically. " You stay with Bobby. I'll be right back. I promise," Dean answered and slipped out the door.

"Damn it, Dean," the young sibling despaired. He had just discovered his brother was alive and he didn't want to take a chance on loosing him again.

"He'll be okay," Bobby offered as he walked over to check out Sam's back. The older hunter knew that Bracken could not be allowed to live and that Dean, being an excellent hunter motivated by his drive to protect Sam, would take the bastard down.

Sam shook his head. "I gotta go," he whispered apologetically as he studied the room looking for another weapon. He wanted to leave Dean's with Bobby.

"No, Sam," Bobby offered sympathetically. "You need to wait here with me. Bracken's out there gunning for you and Dean's safer if he keeps his mind in the game, not worrying about you."

"I'm sorry, Bobby, I can't just sit here and allow Bracken to take Dean's life," Sam explained hoping the hunter might understand.

Bobby frowned. He could tell the kid was determined and he moved towards Sam to hold him back.

Sam stepped away and headed over to the Derek's duffle searching the bag for a weapon. The painful movements brought on waves of dizziness which threatened to topple the hunter, but he pushed on passed them with his mind totally focused on helping his brother.

"Sam, you're in no condition to be out there!" Bobby tried again having seen the youngest Winchester sway and groan from his injuries.

Sam found several weapons in the bag, but not a single handgun or gun of any kind. He made his way over to Derek's dead body.

Bobby had half a mind to aim his piece at Sam if he thought it would have done any good to force the hunter to remain with him. "Damn it, Sam, don't do this," Bobby begged.

Sam ignored the worried hunter. "Stay here and be careful in case he doubles back," Sam warned as he slowly eased himself down towards Derek's dead body. His movements were clearly hampered by his torn muscles and he found his world spin slightly from the pain as he moved them to lower himself down.

"What about you! You can't just go out there unarmed," the concerned hunter questioned, hoping to dissuade the determined young man with reason.

"I'll take Derek's," he called back as he removed the discovered piece from under the deceased hunter's belt.

Bobby watched helplessly as Sam slowly and painfully grabbed his shirt, which had been taken off him for the trial, and struggled to put it on, wincing as he moved his arms through the sleeves. He gritted his teeth and gasped several times when the fabric first laid on his open wounds and tugged at the shredded edges when he buttoned it. Sam's blood was quickly absorbed by the fabric and the shirt quickly glued to his back.

Sam checked Derek's piece for ammunition and when he discovered it to be fully loaded, looked at Bobby one more time to be sure the hunter was okay, and then took off out the door.

"SAM!"

TBC

_Author's Thank You!_

_Thank you all so very much for your generosity in taking the time to review Ambush! I've been touched by your kindness in responding to my writing and it has been tremendous fun for me to interact with you as you move through the chapters! I was overwhelmed to reach more than 1,000 reviews and wanted to say thank you! You have inspired me to go where I would not have thought I could have gone! Chocolate hugs to all! Rachelly_


	26. Deadly Encounters

**Previously**

"Dean, no!" Sam exclaimed, suddenly realizing his brother was going after Bracken alone.

"Gotta, Sammy," Dean winked apologetically. "You stay with Bobby. I'll be right back. I promise," Dean answered and slipped out the door.

"Dean!" Sam hollered.

His cry was cut off by the slam of the cold, metal warehouse door as it shut behind the determined hunter.

**Chapter 26**

Dean's heart ached as he bolted across the dusty parking lot and headed to the building adjacent to Sam's. He hadn't really expected his brother to agree to his plan to stay with Bobby while he went hunting for Bracken, but didn't realize how hard it would be to go against his little brother's wishes either. It pained him to hear his brother's call and it took everything inside of him to keep going and ignore it. His brother was hurt, badly, and needed to get to a hospital and here he was running from him. It just felt wrong and Dean struggled not to turn around and go back.

But he couldn't. Bracken was still free…free to hunt, terrorize, torture, and kill Sam if he wasn't stopped. The hunter had cruelly manipulated his brother into surrendering, using the very people Sam loved against him, and would do so again in a heart beat. He'd tortured Sam physically, emotionally, and psychologically. He'd played on his little brother's guilt at being supernatural, at having caused the other hunter's deaths, and at being a demon soldier and he'd played on Sam's fear of losing his brother.

On top of all that, he'd physically brutalized him. Dean pictured his brother's mouth taped, his body lying on the cold cement floor as he pulled his shredded skin apart to inspect the damage. The image of seeing through the blood to the white bone beneath it sickened him and his passion to free his little brother from the cruel hunter's tyranny, once and for all, drove him onward.

Sam had a right to peace, to live without fear and condemnation, to be known for who he was rather than what others feared him to be. Bracken and others like him would never give him that and Dean knew it was his responsibility to prevent those who believed as Jake, Gordon, and Bracken did from ever getting near his brother again.

Sam had a right to heal, inside and out, to get past the horrors that had taken place the past few months. Dean had seen Sam experience a glimmer of peace, albeit briefly, when Tommy 's threat had ended. His little brother was daring to believe he could have a life, to live again, until Bracken and Derek stirred things up. Dean wanted his brother to return to that safe place and he knew, as long as any hunters remained from that lynching mob, he would never find it. Self defense or not, Bracken had to die.

Dean arrived at the warehouse adjacent to where Bracken had held Sam and Bobby and quickly cased the outside looking for any signs that Joshua or Bracken had gone before him. Both had a good twenty minute lead and could be anywhere by now, but Dean was convinced that Bracken would try to take Sam out and to do so, he would have to remain within visual and firing distance of the warehouse. That eliminated all but the two buildings that flanked the one leased out in Jake's name where Sam had been so cruelly mistreated.

Having nearly circled the entire abandoned building, Dean finally came upon a side door that wasn't locked or chained. Being the only one of its kind, the young hunter became immediately suspicious. He looked over the side of the cement stairs and his eyes landed on a rusty chain with an attached padlock. All the links remained intact except for a broken one whose shiny exposed metal edges were a sharp contrast to the overly rusty exterior of the others and Dean recognized immediately, it had been recently cut.

He quickly drew his piece, quietly opened the door, and slipped inside. He put his hand flat against the metal door to keep it from making a sound as it closed behind him.

Dark, dampness surrounded him as he stood silently inside. He raised his weapon out in front and, after his eyes adjusted to the shadowy environment, did a quick sweep from left to right looking for movement and listening for sounds.

The warehouse remained silent and Dean quickly began getting a feel for the layout of the building. There was a long hallway directly in front of him with offices lined up on either side. Large windows made it possible to see into each office space, but also enabled someone hiding within the rooms to see out into the hallway. The situation was less than desirable, but considering what was at stake, Dean knew he would have to proceed.

A staircase, indicating a second level, went off to the left. Dean quickly drew up a mental image of the outside of the building and recalled there were three levels in all. He decided he would search each one focusing specifically on the side of the building that faced the warehouse Sam was in. He was confident that if Bracken was in the building, he would position himself on that side to wait for a chance to take Sam out.

He crossed in front of the stairway and placed his back up against the wall, then took a quick look in the window of the first office on the left. Things looked quiet so he made his way to the door, opened it and began his search inside.

The room was basically empty except for a few useless pieces of discarded office furniture, a broken white board, and shattered glass which was strewn across the floor. A thin layer of cement dust carpeted the floor which remained clearly undisturbed, indicating no one had been in the room recently.

After being certain Bracken wasn't there, he moved to exit the office and repeated his search in the room just beside it. The result was the same, empty, and he exited and moved on. As he placed himself up against the wall outside the third office, he heard a sound on the floor just above him.

He froze and listened trying to get a fix on its exact location.

It clearly came from one level up on the left side of the building, but it was difficult to tell exactly where. It had sounded like a thump, as if something or someone had dropped or jumped down.

Not wanting to lose any time or the opportunity to follow up on the god given gift, Dean bolted to the stairway, took the stairs three at a time to the top, then worked his way to the first office door. He quickly threw his back against the wall, held his weapon tight to his chest and caught his breath. He paused and listened. The sound had come from either this room or the two beyond it.

Hearing nothing, he slid himself along the wall to the window and quickly glanced inside. The room appeared empty except for an overturned metal desk. Dean stopped and listened again.

All was quiet, so he moved towards the door, turned the knob and entered, once again placing his back against the wall. He made a visual sweep of the room with his weapon's aim following his eye movements. Nothing….He checked the floor for the same cement dust to see if he could detect footprints, but the floor was not quite as telling.

There appeared to be a closet on the far side of the room that was cracked slightly open. Dean studied the over varnished wooden door and, for a brief second, thought he saw it move. His heart began beating rapidly. He quickly figured out a way to make it over to the door without being out in the open. He crouched down, weapon ready, darted to the fallen desk taking cover behind it…..and paused.

When nothing happened, he made his move to the far side of the room, taking up a position against the wall beside the door's hinges. Again he paused and steadied his breathing, straining to listen for any signs of activity inside.

When none came, he slid down the wall into a crouched position and placed his fingers under the bottom edge of the door so as not to be seen, and slowly pulled it open. Dean waited with his foot out to stop it should it suddenly be forced open.

Nothing.

The door opened with a slight creaking sound and paused half way. Dean pulled it the rest of the way in a quick sudden movement as he rounded the door with his weapon out, his finger whitening on the trigger.

He swept the confined space left to right. The closet was empty.

He immediately spun around and searched the room behind him.

Upon seeing the room was deserted, he quickly made his way back to the hallway and, after visually scanning the surrounding area, he approached the next office space where he was pretty sure he had heard the sound from, when he was downstairs.

Dean bit his lip and took a quick look through the glass window that separated the hallway from the office space.

His heart skipped a beat when his eyes fell on a body lying motionless in a crumpled heap on the floor, across the room near a broken window whose shattered glass glistened everywhere. Even more disturbing than finding the possibly dead body was the fact that the body was wearing a familiar black leather jacket.

Dean quickly returned to his position against the wall, cursed and clenched his teeth. Joshua was down. Question was, had Bracken dropped him with a window shot from somewhere else or taken him from inside the room? If that were the case, the hunter could be waiting for him on the other side of the wall.

He crouched below the hallway window and moved to the other side next to the door where he placed his back flat to the wall. He reached for the door handle and, after finding it unlocked, turned it slowly so as not to make a noise, then gave it a gentle push. He waited for a shot, but none came. His heart began beating furiously as he got ready to enter.

Dean took a deep breath, circled around and entered, throwing his back against the now open door as it smacked against the wall behind him.

He quickly scanned the room with his weapon out in front, arms straight, finger on the trigger. The barrel of his weapon moved in unison with his eyes.

The room appeared empty except for an old wooden desk and chair, an overused whiteboard, a long table and a filing cabinet. The back part of the room swung off to the left out of sight, an easy place for Bracken to have taken up a position.

Leaning up against the wall, he began sliding to the end, stopping just short of the corner that led to the hidden section. He glanced down at Joshua's form and to his relief the black leather jacket was moving slowly out and in, indicating the hunter was still breathing.

Dean drew in a breath, counted to three in his mind out of habit, and spun facing the concealed nook, extending his weapon straight out while the rest of him remained safely hidden, hugging the wall. He moved his arm in a sweeping motion from left to right.

Nothing

The corner was empty except for a door to a closet. He quickly swung back around to be sure Bracken wasn't sneaking up behind him, then returned his gaze to the closet door and began to approach.

Upon arrival, he backed up against the wall just to the left of the door, he turned the knob, threw it open, and spun around with his weapon forward, finger on the trigger searching for his target.

Nothing.

He immediately swung back, weapon out in front, and checked the room again, scanning from left to right as his eyes followed his piece.

Still nothing.

He made his way to the shattered window, glass shards crunching beneath his feet, and looked out searching for movement on the property below or a line of site from the warehouse across the way.

Still nothing.

He took a deep, relieved breath and let it out; all his anxiety escaped along with it and he immediately moved over to Joshua to check the hunter out.

He called his name as he crouched down, placed his hand gently on the unconscious hunter's shoulder, and rolled him onto his back. His eyes quickly searched his body for signs of a gunshot wound. Terror gripped him when it was clear Joshua had been in a physical battle and he suddenly sensed a presence in the room …above his head.

Before Dean could look up or even blink he was taken to the floor by the impact of Bracken's full weight. His weapon was instantly knocked from his hand as he was flattened.

Bracken quickly turned Dean over and began pummeling him in the face. Dean's upper lip split just before his teeth imbedded in his lower one. His mouth began to fill with the coppery taste of blood as he lay dazed and pinned beneath the hunters overbearing weight. Blood began spurting from his nose and mouth and pain spread out from his chin upwards and he was mercilessly beat upon. The malicious hunter raised his knee preparing to shove it deep into Dean's already damaged ribs. He knew all of Dean's injured areas, having inflicted them on his body earlier in the apartment and he fully intended to use them all against the dazed hunter.

Before Bracken's knee made contact, Dean grabbed and twisted it, sending the hunter sideways to the floor.

Dean quickly pushed himself up and lunged at him with murderous rage. He kneed the hunter in the stomach and slid his knee up under the brutal man's ribcage. Bracken's air was forced out of his lungs and he hollered in pain as his ribs cracked from the force of the impact. Dean grabbed the hunter's collar, lifted his shoulders up off the ground, and slammed them down smacking the groaning hunter's head hard against the floor.

Bracken, desperate to get Dean off, raised his arms and boxed the enraged hunter in the ears. Dean instinctively grabbed his head as the pain and pressure staggered him. Bracken used the temporary distraction to twist his body upward and to the side, throwing Dean off of him and to the floor smacking his head on the wooden desk on the way down. Bracken punched Dean in the head and pinned him to the floor shoving his arm hard against Dean's throat.

Dean squirmed as he tried to raise the hunter off of him and break free of his choking hold, but without leverage his efforts were in vain. He raised his arms to box Bracken's head, but the hunter quickly pinned them beneath his knees as his full weight remained on the hunter's damaged chest.

Dean's body screamed in agony, his damaged ribs in pain, his suffocating lungs in oxygen deprived anguish. He lay helpless, with Bracken sitting on his chest, his arms pinned down by his knees, his throat closed off by an unforgiving arm.

Bracken smiled as he watched his bloodied victim struggle in vain. He leaned over within inches of Dean's face delighting in his second victory over the hunter and began his cruelties.

"Is your brother still alive?" he questioned in a deep, malicious voice.

Dean struggled harder angered by Bracken's mere mention of Sam.

"You should have seen your little brother scream when the Cat sliced through his skin," the cruel hunter taunted. " His blood bubbled up like a freakin' volcano!"

Bracken sneered, delighting not only in the torture he'd inflicted on Sam, but the distress it was causing Dean.

"I gotta tell ya, though, bastard's not what I expected. After all Derek's talk, the scary demonic soldier cried like a baby when I told him you were dead, for gods sake! You know, I would've thought the evil son of a bitch would have been tougher than that," he callously mocked.

Dean stiffened his lips, his eyes were murderous.

Bracken, deciding it might be fun to play with his captured prey a bit before killing it, lightened his arm against Dean's throat just enough to allow the fallen hunter a breath or two, then pressed in hard again.

"Son of a Bitch, I'm gonna kill you!" Dean hissed with what little air he could force through is voice box as he struggled to free himself. His ribs, being crushed by Bracken's weight, could barely expand making it nearly impossible for him to speak. He attempted to make a move to free himself.

Bracken, having the advantage of gravity, air, and a less damaged body, easily maintained his control over Dean.

Bracken laughed at the absurdity of Dean's threat.

"Is he still in the warehouse?" Bracken eerily questioned. "Or will I have the pleasure of shooting him out in the open like a duck in a barrel," the arrogant huntsman whispered with a sneer.

Dean's eyes grew wide as he struggled helplessly under the malicious hunter's body. His eyes searched the floor for his fallen piece.

"Is this what you're looking for?" he questioned as he held Dean's weapon in front of his face and turned the barrel to Dean's forehead.

Dean stilled and stiffened his lips. He refused to close his eyes and give the hunter the satisfaction of seeing his fear. Instead, he stared the bastard straight in the eyes and prayed that Bobby could protect Sam in his absence.

The hunter pulled the weapon away, finding no satisfaction in his failed intimidation, and decided there was a better way to panic the oldest Winchester. He turned the piece over in his hand and then looked Dean in the eyes.

"I figure I'll shoot him first, with _your _gun. Not to kill him, mind you, just to take him down. And then, I'll finish his trial and deliver my sentence," the sly huntsman callously explained eyeing Dean for some kind of reaction. " Of course the death penalty doesn't really hold much weight if the perpetrator is already dead. I wonder if that demon brother of yours can survive thirteen more lashes with a Cat. Sure as hell will be fun to find out!"

The words burned Dean's soul as the hideous monster on top of him hissed them out. The thought of the hunter being left alive to torture and destroy Sam was unbearable and the rage that had been growing in his heart, began seeping into his system. It poured out through his chest, coursing through his veins to his extremities, strengthening, fortifying, and renewing as it traveled along. Finding a strength, not quite his own, Dean's pent in anger burst forth with a mighty force.

Before Bracken could continue, Dean pulled his knees hard towards the sneering hunter's back, assaulting the unsuspecting man from behind. Bracken was instantly thrown forward off of Dean's chest.

Using his freed hands, Dean continued the forward motion by lifting the hunter's knees and forcing them up over his head.

The flying hunter's skull smacked into the edge of the old wooden desk, his chest into the side with such force the air was literally knocked out of him before he bounced off and slammed to the floor. Dean's weapon, no longer in the cruel hunter's hands, flew to the wall behind him and fell to the floor as well.

Bracken quickly rose and, though stunned, flew at Dean, ramming his shoulder into his waist and tackling him backwards to the floor. Bracken attempted to stand up to pummel the startled hunter again.

But before he could take his first punch, Dean drew his legs up, placed his boots on the man's chest and shoved with all his might.

Bracken's body sailed back and struck the wall with such force it left a crater in the cracked drywall. His traumatized body slid bonelessly down the wall and puddled on the floor.

Dean quickly righted himself and jumped on top of the fallen hunter. He grabbed the man by the shirt and pinned him down with his forearms. The unconscious hunter lay limply on the floor underneath him.

Dean held the hunter, fists tight and shaking in rage finding it difficult to let go. His hatred burned deep in his heart against the monster who had tortured his little brother and it took a moment for his rage to subside enough for him to release his hold and complete his task: to kill the guy and putting an end to his threat to Sam forever.

He scanned the room and saw his piece lying against the wall. He swayed as he attempted to rise. The pummeling he had taken blurred his vision and confused his balance. He finally found his feet beneath him and moved to get it.

As he leaned down to grab it, he heard a sound behind him. He quickly turned around to check on Bracken and to his horror found the huntsman gone.

"Shit!" Dean spat in panic as his eyes quickly searched the empty room before he took off into the hallway. He looked up and down, but there was no sign of the hunter.

Dean frantically searched the rooms on either side, trying to locate where the hunter had gone. A few minutes later he heard a metal door open and smack shut two floors down and Dean knew the hunter had left the warehouse.

Fearing Bracken might be heading back to Sam and Bobby, he quickly bolted to check on Joshua and hoped the huntsman could help.

"Joshua!" Dean called loudly as he slid through the glass to the fallen hunter. He desperately tried to rouse him to see if he was alright and illicit his help.

The fallen hunter remained unresponsive.

Dean checked his pupils, pulse and respirations and, after determining the hunter was unconscious but okay, left the hunter to go after Bracken before he could get back to the warehouse and harm Sam.

oOOOoo

Dean arrived at the warehouse and threw open the door. His eyes immediately met with the barrel of Bobby's weapon.

"Jeez, Dean, you trying to get yourself killed?" Bobby hissed as he exhaled loudly and lowered his weapon. He stared in shock at the multicolored face before him. Swirls of red blood and purple bruises covered Dean's now swollen face. "Damn, Dean, you look like you got hit by a truck. Are you okay, son?"

"Where's Sam?!!!" Dean called out frantically after searching the warehouse with his eyes and not finding his little brother.

"He went out to help you," Bobby explained as he reached over to check Dean's bloody face.

"Damn it!" Dean hissed moving away. "He was supposed to stay here! Bracken's out there gunning for him! Why the hell didn't you stop him?" Dean questioned accusingly. He didn't mean to blame Bobby, but he was terrified for Sam. "Bracken said he was gonna kill him!"

"I tried, but he refused to stay and by the time I got through the door to follow him, he was already out of sight," Bobby explained apologetically. "Would have gone looking for the kid, but wanted to be here in case he returned and needed help. He's bleeding pretty badly," Bobby expressed worriedly.

"We have to find him before the sick son of a bitch does!" Dean's voice growled out.

"Where's Joshua?"

"He's unconscious, but okay. Bracken's not interested in him so I think he's safe. We'll go back for him once we find Sam. You wait here, I'll come back for you," Dean instructed.

"No, I'm going with you," Bobby corrected after seeing Dean's face and fearing the hunter was no longer at the top of his game.

"No, you wait here in case Sam comes back," Dean explained agreeing with Bobby's thinking and wanting the injured hunter safe.

"S'better if two of us are out there looking for him," Bobby counseled. "Sam may not be able to make it back here," he offered gently not wanting to upset the sibling but help him deal with a possible unpleasant reality.

Dean frowned as he considered that Sam could have collapsed somewhere and might not be able to make it to the warehouse. If that was the case, it would be better to have Bobby out looking for him. He finally nodded. "Sure you're okay for this?"

"Hell, yes! Bastard's messing with me and my own, and I sure as hell wouldn't miss taking him down."

Dean smiled and nodded, grateful for the family friend and his loyalty.

"Okay. There are two warehouses, one on either side of us. If I were Bracken, I'd take up a position in one of them and wait for a shot at Sam. I hope to god he doesn't know that Sam's not here. If he does, the bastard could be anywhere!"

"If he knew, I think we would have heard shots by now," Bobby mentioned gently.

Dean nodded in agreement and continued.

"Search along the side facing this way. If you find him, don't engage him, just kill him. If you find Sam first, get him to the car, one block south of here, wire it and get the hell out. Sam's cell is in the glove compartment. He can call me so I know he's safe. I'll find Bracken, kill the bastard and bring Joshua home in the truck."

Bobby nodded. "Be careful, Dean.:"

"You too!" Dean echoed.

The two men checked their weapons and took up positions on either side of the warehouse door. Dean peered out and, seeing no signs of trouble, took off. He hid behind a large stack of wooden crates to cover Bobby. He nodded to the waiting hunter.

Bobby took off out the door and followed along the outside of the building and disappeared around the corner.

oooOOOooo

Warehouse 3

Sam entered the warehouse cautiously, gun raised, and moved slowly and painfully through the hallway glancing for signs of movement and sounds. His shirt pulled cruelly as the fabric caught on the torn pieces of skin with each movement he made. His one eye was swollen making his ability to see out of it clearly a problem, but he felt himself capable of shooting accurately if his brother or Joshua were in danger.

The warehouse appeared to be empty, but Sam had his doubts. Based on it location next to the warehouse he had been tortured in and the recently cut chain discarded to the right of the cement stairs, it was reasonable to assume the hunter might have taken up a position here preparing to finish what he'd started. Sam reasoned if Bracken were inside, it was a good bet Dean was too.

He began searching the building room by room along the side facing where he'd been held, knowing Dean would be using the same strategy. He wanted to call out for his brother, but knew it was the last thing he should do…so he continued, slowly, carefully, methodically working his way room by room through the first floor. Having no success at finding his sibling, he worked his way up the stairs and began searching the second floor.

oooOOOooo

Warehouse 3

Dean entered the warehouse anxiously searching for his little brother while keeping an eye out for Bracken. Fear drove him forward at a faster pace than caution would have allowed, but he was terrified that if he slowed his pace, his brother would pay the price.

Silently, he made his way quickly through the first floor, familiar with its layout from his previous visit. As each room was found empty, he'd moved on to the next. He knew Joshua was on the third floor, the third office on the left and was eager to make his way back there to check on the hunter once he found Sam.

oooOOOooo

Warehouse 3

Sam made his way up the stairs to the third floor having found both the first and second empty. His strength was waning, but he continued, driven by his desire to find his brother and make sure he was safe.

As he made his way to the top, he heard a noise on the floor just below him. He froze and listened intently.

Nothing.

Not knowing if it were Dean or Bracken, he slowly peered over the railing to the stairs below and watched and listened. As he leaned over, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and he had to grab onto the metal rail to steady himself. His back screamed with the movement and Sam thought for a moment he might fall. Thankfully, he was able to work past the temporary laps of strength and determined to continue on. He listened once more.

Nothing.

He looked at the doors that separated him from the third floor and then back down the staircase and decided he would back track through the second floor and, if Dean wasn't there, he would make his way to the third again.

Taking one shaky step at a time, he slowly and silently moved to the middle landing and crouched down trying to see through the broken glass in the doorway to the second floor. The angle was poor and he couldn't see more than the first part of the hallway. He rose and continued his descent, pausing at the bottom and listening again.

Nothing.

He shivered and wiped his hand across his forehead trying to relieve his pounding headache, the sound of which was making it difficult for him to concentrate let alone hear much of anything.

Having detected no sounds, he took one last quick look and, after seeing nothing of concern, reached for the door knob.

He turned the handle and gently began to push the door open being careful not to jostle or move it too quickly and cause a sound. He pushed it out a bit farther, then began to round the corner to slip through it.

It was then that he discovered he was not alone. A figure had been standing on the opposite side of the wall. When he walked through he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against his head.

"Damn it, Sam! I almost blew your head off!" a familiar voice bellowed out.

Sam turned as the weapon was dropped from its threatening position. He sighed in relief when he saw his older brother.

"Man, you're j-just p-plain scary, you know th-that?" Sam muttered trying to calm his frantically beating heart. "Damn n-near gave m-me a heart a-attack," he shivered out.

"That makes two of us," Dean agreed as he crouched slightly, resting his hands on his knees and sighing in relief.

Dean paused as his relief at finding his brother was quickly replaced with anger at Sam for putting himself in danger.

"You know, I could just shoot you, Sam. You were supposed to stay with Bobby in the warehouse!" Dean chastised. "Scared the crap out of me when I found out you weren't there."

Dean looked over at his brother, half expecting his uncooperative sibling to apologize. He was instantly concerned by his appearance.

Sam was pale, really pale. His face was drawn tight in pain. His posture and position against the wall indicated he was weak as well.

"Sorry, D-Dean, I d-didn't want t-to.." Sam hesitated not sure he wanted to admit he was scared to death of losing Dean again. "I th-thought you m-might need s-some help," he whispered out as his eyes searched his brother's for understanding.

Dean nodded, acknowledging Sam's feelings, then furrowed his eyebrows when he saw his little brother sway. He quickly reached out his hand to steady him.

"You okay?"

Sam nodded as he placed his hand on Dean's extended arm, steadied himself, and winced.

Dean placed both hands gently on Sam's arms and turned his brother to get a look at his back. Sam attempted to resist, but Dean was persistent.

"Damn, Sam," he whispered as he took in his brother's completely bloody shirt. We got to get you to a hospital, kiddo."

Dean frowned. He knew he needed to get Sam help, but he also knew Bracken was gunning for the kid, and he doubted Sam could move quickly enough to make his way safely to the Impala even with his help. He needed Joshua or Bobby.

"Joshua's upstairs on the third floor, Sam," Dean gently explained. "Think you can make it up there with me and we'll check him out and see if he can help get you the hell out of here?"

Sam looked at Dean and nodded. No answer was really needed and although Sam projected he was okay, Dean could tell otherwise based on the pained look in his eyes and tense look on his face.

"S'he o-okay?" Sam asked with concern.

"He went a few rounds with Bracken, got knocked out, but he's okay. Might even be awake by now," Dean answered as he began heading towards the stairs. "You stay close behind me. We'll get in and out of here as fast as we can. Any sign of trouble, you do what you have to to protect yourself," Dean instructed.

Dean studied Sam's weapon. "Derek's?"

Sam nodded.

"Loaded?"

Sam nodded again.

Dean looked up the stairwell and back at Sam. "Hold on to the railing. We'll take it slow."

Sam agreed and with his brother's help and patience, managed to follow him up the stairs while keeping an eye on their sixes.

oooOOOooo

The brother's found the wounded hunter who was now stirring on the third floor. He was somewhat groggy, but able to handle himself and join them. When Joshua got his bearings, the three began their ascent down the stairs to the second floor and then the first. Dean was out in front, Sam was sandwiched in the middle, and Joshua brought up the rear.

Dean glanced out the side door and studied the property, planning in his mind how they would get Sam safely out. He turned to discuss it with the two waiting hunters.

There are crates on the left along the waterfront. Joshua, you cover me while I make my way there. When I nod, Sam, you and Joshua head to me and I'll cover you. We'll work our way along the bay back to the warehouse where my car is, then hightail you out of here,' he gestured to Sam.

"W-what about B-bobby?" Sam shivered worriedly as he held himself stiffly trying not to move his back too much.

Dean turned to Joshua. "You get Sam out of here. I'll go back for Bobby."

"Dean, n-no," Sam stated adamantly.

"Sam, Bracken isn't interested in us, he wants you. You have to go."

"No," Sam stated loudly. "Dean, p-please, Let's just f-find Bobby and l-leave. All of us, t-together," Sam pleaded not wanting anyone to be left behind or injured because of him.

Dean shook his head and looked to Joshua. "Watch for me and on my signal, follow with Sam."

Before Sam could argue, Dean took off.

As he neared the waterfront, he slid behind a pile of crates for cover. He rose, placed his arm outstretched, weapon in hand on top of one of the crates and immediately scanned the property and warehouse windows for Bracken. As he turned to the right, Sam came in behind him, seconds later Joshua followed.

"Damn it, Sam, I told you to wait!" Dean hissed worried sick that his little brother could have been picked off 'like a duck in a barrel'. Bracken's words held power over Dean's mind and he struggled to use that fear to keep him alert and ready, rather than allow it to paralyze him.

Dean looked back at Joshua half angry that the hunter hadn't physically restrained his stubborn little brother. Course if he had, he might have killed the guy, so……

"D-Dean, we g-go together," Sam stated with vulnerable eyes. " You're m-my brother, n-not by body guard. Remember?" Sam questioned.

"I know that, Sam, I do. But Bracken's after you, and the only way to stop him is to get you out of his reach_."_

Sam frowned, but didn't say anything. He knew Dean's mind was made up and there was nothing he could do to change it. He settled back down and waited for Dean's next move.

Dean took off toward the next pile of broken crates. Joshua had his weapon out as he scanned the area prepared to fire should Bracken engage. Sam remained hidden waiting for his brother's signal.

Something caught the youngest Winchester's attention from the corner of his eye and he turned his head to see what was moving near the water only a stack of crates behind his brother. To his horror, he saw Bracken rise and extend his arm, weapon out, aiming directly at Dean's back.

"Nooooo!" Sam's voice cried out in horror just as a shot rang out.

The young Winchester flinched in absolute fear as he watched from a distance, close enough to see Bracken's eyes enlarged with anticipation, but too far away to do anything to protect his brother.

Sam watched in horror as he saw Dean drop to the ground just after the shot.

Sam bolted towards his brother as he aimed his weapon and fired several times trying to keep the threatening hunter from moving in on Dean and taking another shot.

Joshua spun around and began firing rapidly trying to cover Sam as he made his way to his brother.

Bracken took cover behind the crates, then turned back to fire on Sam. Joshua's gunfire caused the malicious hunter to reconsider his assault on Sam and he dropped below the level of the crates concealing his position.

"Dean, oh, god, no," Sam cried out when he finally made it to his brother who was just beginning to stir.

Sam grabbed his brother's shirt and began struggling to turn him over to see where he'd been hit.

"I'm okay, Sammy. Just clipped is all," Dean reassured his panicked sibling as he put his hand on his arm which was beginning to bleed.

Two shots suddenly rang out and Dean immediately grabbed Sam and pulled him down on top of him.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean hissed as he held tight to his little brother. After the shots ceased, he slid out from under his brother while keeping a hand on him to hold him down. Dean tried to figure out Bracken's position.

"C-can you see him?" Sam questioned raising his head thankful he was on his stomach and not on his back.

Dean promptly shoved his little brother's moppy head back down. "No, but he's somewhere between us and the water."

Dean looked over at Joshua to see if the hunter had a visual on Bracken. He formed a "V" with his fingers, pointed the tips to his eyes and then aimed them out in the direction he thought Bracken might be.

Joshua understood Dean's question and shook his head. Both hunters frowned.

The quiet lapping of the water against the raised shore should have been relaxing, but it had the opposite effect as all three hunters realized there was no way to determine Bracken's movements by sound, a key tool in a game of cat and mouse.

"Stay down," Dean cautioned as he slowly rose to take a look.

Joshua aimed his piece towards the vicinity Bracken has last been seen to cover the searching Winchester.

"Anything?" Sam questioned sitting at Dean's feet leaning sideways against the crates that were concealing them. His heart was pounding, his back was screaming, and his strength was clearly starting to go.

"I'm gonna circle around to the right. You stay here. I'll have Joshua go left and we'll try to flank him between us."

Dean signaled Joshua of his intentions. The experienced hunter nodded in agreement and began to look for cover off to the left.

"Dean, be c-careful," Sam warned as he began to struggle to rise. He wanted to cover his brother should the hunter not be where they were expecting him to be.

"Stay down, little brother. I'll be fine," Dean offered with a crooked smile.

The two brothers shared a quick look. Sam's forehead crinkled in worry, his eyes radiated fear.

"I'll be back, Sam, I swear," Dean said and then he disappeared around the right side of the crates.

Sam waited for a few seconds and then continued to rise. He held his weapon tight to his chest and began to raise his head to clear his line of vision to see what was going on, finding the silence deafening.

Sam could see Joshua off to the left and Dean moving in on the right. What he couldn't see was Bracken. He rose a little higher straining to get a visual.

Dean paused behind some crates and looked over to Sam who was now visible. He quickly flailed his arm to indicate his little brother should get down.

Sam's eyes wandered to some motion just to the other side of the crates his brother was hiding behind and to his horror, he saw Bracken.

Dean, whose finger was whitening on the trigger of his piece waiting for the hunter to rise up and attempt a shot, was completely unaware that Bracken had moved in on him and now had him in his sights through the crates and would not need to rise above them to finish Dean off.

Sam's eyes widened in sheer horror as his body burned from the adrenaline that flooded his system and pumped furiously in his veins, quickening his heart rate, his breathing, his strength and his reflexes. There wasn't time for him to shout or gesture a warning to Dean or even think...Instinct took over and Sam, weapon in hand, target in sight, without thought or hesitation, fired.

The gun cracked out and Dean and Joshua both turned in Sam's direction to see the smoke still rising from the barrel of the horrified hunter's gun. They quickly followed his line of sight to Bracken.

Sam's bullet caught the malicious hunter straight in the chest and the three watched as his body was thrown off the embankment, plunging twenty feet into the bay's murky waters.

Before Dean had a chance to turn back and nod a thank you to his little brother for saving his life, Sam had dropped his discharged weapon and taken off .

Seconds later, he was diving head first in after Bracken.

"Sam, No!" Dean shouted as he rose quickly and ran to the edge of the embankment fearful for his brother's safety. If Bracken had survived the shot, he could easily drown Sam, whose stamina was poor and had already been exhausted and whose body was seriously damaged. Even if Bracken was dead, Sam would still be unable to remain afloat in the bay for long.

Sam felt the Bay's cold waters blanket him as he plunged deep into its freezing depths. His muscles quickly stiffened and baulked at the requests his mind was making of them.

With what little strength he had, he began searching for the wounded hunter. He knew he had entered in the same location Bracken had gone down, but without being able to see more than a few inches from his face it was almost impossible to tell in which direction the shot hunter might have already drifted. He decided to go deeper and work his way up to the surface hoping that he would encounter the hunter's frame somewhere in between.

Dean watched in absolute panic as his brother's body disappeared below the surface of the murky waters.

"Sam-my!" he hollered again as Bobby, who had heard the shots and come running, and Joshua came up behind him.

Dean noticed a floating dock that was resting on the water's surface just off to the right. "Meet us there!" he directed his fellow hunters.

Before Bobby or Joshua could nod in compliance, Dean was off the embankment and midway to the surface below.

Sam struggled beneath the waters as his decreased lung capacity and weakened, torn muscles complicated his ability to move. He was unable to make any contact with Bracken as he blindly yet methodically moved his arms around him and knew he needed to head to the surface for a breath. Just as his lungs began to scream in oxygen deprived pain, he surfaced. Gasping for air, he sucked in a couple full breaths, laid back for a second to regain some strength as he was feeling overwhelmingly tired, and readied to dive again.

"Sam!" Dean called out when he saw his brother surface a few yards from his floating position.

Sam immediately turned to face his brother who was now swimming towards him. "I can't find him!"

"Go over to the dock, Sam," Dean commanded fearing for his brother's well being.

"No, Dean. We have to find him!"

Dean bristled. He knew Sam wouldn't give up until the hunter was found.

"I'll find him, just get yourself to the dock!" Dean yelled in worried fear.

Sam looked apologetically at Dean, took a deep breath and dove again beneath the surface.

Dean slapped the water in anger of his brother's moral commitment, grabbed a breath and dove in after him.

The brother's once again began feeling blindly in the murky waters as the coldness stiffened their muscles making them difficult to control.

Sam finally bumped up against something and upon investigating, discovered it was an arm. He grabbed the limb with both hands and pulled until the floating hunter's body came close enough to be wrapped in Sam's arms. Once secured, the young hunter began the difficult task of dragging the dead weight of the soaked and unmoving hunter to the surface.

Dean felt Sam's leg kick against his hand on his way towards where he thought his brother's position was and he immediately took off to follow him to the surface.

Partway there, Sam's lungs began to scream for air since his bleeding and over taxed muscles weren't getting enough oxygen to manage the load he was now carrying. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he lost the cold water sensation that had been blanketing him . His limbs stilled as he began to drift not only in the water, but in his mind as well.

Dean bumped into his brother's legs as they floated, unmoving, just above him. He doubled the demand on his stiffened muscles and literally scrambled up his brother's body which still loosely embraced the body of the hunter whose life did not deserve to be saved.

Absolute panic seared painfully through him as he realized Sam was floating, not making any attempts to reach to the surface.

Dean wrapped his arms around his brother's chest, grabbed the collar of Bracken's shirt, and began kicking as fast as he could to raise them both to the surface. He would have easily left Bracken behind, had it not been the life Sam had so been willing to sacrifice himself for…. For his brother's sake, he attempted to save him as well.

Before the eldest Winchester broke the surface he straightened his arm and shoved his brother's head above the surface. He followed him within seconds and he pulled Bracken's body up as well. To his horror. Sam lay slumped over, floating face down .

Dean immediately let go of Bracken, wrapped his arms around Sam's chest and pulled him back, exposing his head to the air. Sam's lifeless body floated on his brother's chest as Dean laid back in the water to support him.

" Sammy?!" Dean called in absolute panic as his brother's head bobbed with the movement of the water's surface. Dean gently wrapped his hand on his brother's forehead and pulled his head back, chin up trying to free his airway."Talk to me Sam!" he begged as he struggled to keep his brother's body afloat on top of his.

Sam remained limp, his arms floated outward, loosely in the water.

Joshua was already in the water before Sam's head emerged, having realized something was wrong when the brothers had gone under and not returned to the surface. By the time Dean surfaced with Sam and released Bracken, the oversized huntsman was within yards of them. He could hear Dean's anguished call as he begged for his brother to answer him.

"Is he breathing?" Joshua hollered out in a panic.

"I can't tell!" Dean breathlessly cried out.

"Can you get him in?" Joshua hollered back.

Dean never even heard him. He was already doing a panicked swim to the dock, towing his brother's body as fast as humanly possible.

Joshua, saddened by Sam's grave situation, and moved by the young hunter's willingness to save a man who had tried to kill him, began searching the water for Bracken's submerged body.

Upon locating it, he hauled him to the surface in honor of the fallen Winchester.

Sam was willing to sacrifice his own life for one that the seasoned and calloused hunter hadn't thought twice about taking. The hunter suddenly realized he had misunderstood the youngest Winchester all these years. It wasn't weakness Sam possessed, but an inner strength, the likes of which, he'd never seen before. It was much easier to seek vengeance than to forgive and Sam had chosen forgiveness, had valued life over revenge. The light of the youngest Winchester shone into the darkness of Joshua's bitter, angry heart and the sensitive boy who had once existed there long ago awakened. He had spent a life time constructing walls and fortifying them, shutting himself off of really feeling much of everything and despising anyone who did, and yet in those few minutes of seeing Sam's selfless sacrifice, the supposedly impenetrable walls had crumbled down.

He wrapped his arm around Bracken's frame and towed the bleeding hunter in.

Upon seeing Sam's lifeless body floating on his brother's chest, Bobby dove in and swam over to assist. He knew the hunter had to be exhausted and pained.

Dean, unable to release his little brother from his arms to Bobby's care continued his panicked strokes to the dock with Bobby following close behind.

Dean finally relinquished Sam to Bobby's arms while he hooked his arms on the dock, locked his elbows, and forced himself up. He immediately leaned over and grabbed for Sam. Locking both hands under his brother's arms and across his chest, he heaved his brother up onto the wooden structure and quickly laid him out.

"Sammy?" Dean beckoned again as he reached for his brother's pulse.

Sam's limp body remained unresponsive as the bay's cold water drained from his clothes onto the dock.

Bobby made his way onto the dock, crouched down and placed his hands gently on both sides of Sam's head as if to hold the boy steady.

"Anything?" the older hunter asked with grave concern.

Dean's hardened features suddenly softened as he felt a slow, faint thumping beneath his brother's cold, wet skin.

"Got a pulse," he sighed out in heartfelt relief as he quickly laid his hand on his brother's chest to confirm that he was breathing as well.

Bobby watched and waited. Sam's lips were blue, but whether it was from the cold or lack of oxygen had yet to be determined.

"C'mon, Sam," Dean frustratingly called out when he was unable to detect movement. He immediately placed his hand above Sam's nose and mouth, hovering it mere millimeters from his brother's face trying to detect any movement of air, no matter how slight.

Bobby continued to hold onto the sides of Sam's head tilting it back as if in somehow doing so, his bracing might enable the hunter to breathe.

A horrified expression suddenly washed over Dean's face when he realized Sam wasn't breathing.

"Oh no. God, no," Dean breathlessly whispered as he hovered.

Dean's instincts suddenly kicked in and he took a deep breath, placed his hand under Sam's neck, pinched off his little brother's swollen nose, and covered his mouth with his own. Seconds later, he began the desperate act of breathing for his brother.

_Breathe….inhale, cover, breathe…..inhale, cover, breathe…inhale, cover, breathe….inhale, cover, breathe_

Five breaths later, the panicked sibling paused and turned his head to listen while feeling for his brother's respirations with his hand on his soaked chest.

"C'mon, Sammy, C'mon." Dean begged as he strained for a sign.

Bobby watched and waited nervously along with him.

"Anything?"

Dean bit his lip and shook his head. He quickly felt for his brother's pulse fearing it might be lost as well. The slow, uneven beating of Sam's blood as it lethargically moved through his carotid artery frightened Dean as he knew, if his brother's heart stopped, there'd be no way he could start it and artificially pumping it for him was largely unsuccessful at keeping someone alive.

Panicked to keep Sam's heart going by giving it the air it needed, he began breathing for his brother again.

_Lift, tilt, pinch, inhale, cover, breathe….inhale, cover, breathe…..inhale, cover, breathe…inhale, cover, breathe….inhale_

Sam's body jerked. His mouth suddenly erupted, spewing bay water up and out. The eruption was followed by a gasp as his oxygen deprived lungs struggled to take in the life sustaining air they so desperately needed.

A series of coughs and gasps, groans and winces, ensued as Sam's body struggled to find a balance that would offer it some peace. The need for air outweighed his body's need to be free of pain and he continued to cough and gasp despite the excruciating agony it inflicted on the young Winchester's damaged back.

Dean's overly tense shoulders suddenly released when he finally saw his brother's body begin to rhythmically and effectively take in air and release it.

He's breathing," he declared unnecessarily as his voice cracked with emotion. He looked up at Bobby with tears in his eyes and nodded. "He's breathing."

Bobby released his hold on Sam's head and sat back on his legs. He slapped his hand to his forehead and held it there for a moment, then slid it downward across his face and sighed.

Joshua finally reached the dock with Bracken. Bobby leaned over to grasp the cruel hunter's limp body and pull him onto the deck a few feet from Sam.

Joshua pushed himself up onto the dock and moved over to check on how Sam was doing. He paused as he saw the kid laid out unconscious, but breathing. He couldn't help but notice how Sam's appearance had changed. The kid who had always appeared weak, vulnerable, and whimpy, suddenly looked different to him. It wasn't really that his appearance had actually changed, if anything the kid never looked worse. What Joshua saw was guts. The kid had guts and an inner strength unequalled to anyone he'd ever known save John, and Joshua couldn't help but admire him for it.

"S'he okay?" Joshua asked quietly.

"He's breathing, but not awake," Bobby explained when Dean remained quiet, assessing his little brother's well being.

Bobby looked at Bracken and at Joshua, as if asking if he were dead. Dean caught the action and looked at the hunter for the answer as well.

Joshua nodded.

Dean felt a mix of emotions. He was glad the hunter was dead because his threat to Sam died with him, but he was sad at the same time, because he felt his brother would suffer for not having been able to save him. Sam had nearly given up his life for the guy and he hoped he could one day help his little brother understand that he'd done all that he could. Sam had shot Bracken to save his big brother and had tried to rescue the undeserving hunter...and that…was definitely not murder.

Dean continued hovering over Sam. He gently called his brother's name again as he brushed his wet hair out of his eyes.

"Sammy?"

Sam remained unresponsive, though his steady breathing suggested he should be okay and able to wake up.

Dean looked up at Bobby. His eyes begged the man, he was now considering like a father, to give him a comforting explanation and hope.

As much as Bobby wanted to explain, he couldn't... Exhaustion? Shock? Bloodloss...or... he didn't dare mention the possibility that Sam may have been without air for too long. All the worried man could do was suggest, " Dean wait another minute...and see..."

Dean sighed deeply and shook his head nervously. He attempted to arouse his brother again.

"Sammy," he called gently as he jostled his brother's chest with his hand.

Sam stirred finally responding to his brother's voice. He shivered and slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean whispered softly as he took in his brother's drowsy eyes.

Sam raised his hand to reach for Dean, whose panicked, teary eyed face looked like it needed comforting.

"D-Dean?" (cough)

"Yeah, Sammy, s'me," Dean responded as he grasped his siblings hand and squeezed it to show he was there.

"W-what's (cough) wrong?(cough, cough)" he mumbled confused as to what had happened, why his mind was so groggy, and why Dean seemed so upset.

"Nothing's wrong, now," Dean assured with a smile.

Bobby's head suddenly appeared upside down over him. Tiny drops of water rained down.

"How c-come (wheeze, cough, cough) you g-guys are (cough) dr-ripping all (cough) ov-ver m-me?" Sam shivered still trying to put the pieces of this strange puzzle together. He was on his seriously painful back, dripping wet and cold and Bobby and Dean were hovering over him like he had just….

Dean looked at Bobby a little concerned as to why Sam was confused and starting to cough after having quieted for a bit while unconscious.

"You took a little swim, Sam," Bobby answered not wanting to alert Sam of their concerns.

Sam's eyes widened as the memory of Bracken's body held tightly to his, floated back. He reached up his arms and realized the hunter wasn't there. "Bracken (cough)?"

Dean shook his head sadly.

"Sorry, Sam," a deep voice gently interjected.

Joshua leaned in, put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "He didn't make it. We tried, but he was already gone."

Dean and Bobby looked at Joshua and were both amazed to see the tenderness he showed Sam at that moment. They quickly looked back at Sam to gage his reaction.

Sam nodded, disappointed, but not devastated, as Dean had feared. The young hunter coughed a few more times.

"We need to get out of here," the oversized dripping man directed as he knew, once seen, the four of them would be in trouble.

Dean nodded knowing exactly what Joshua's concerns were. The gunfire had probably already been called in and the police were most likely on their way.

"Can you get up?" Dean asked his sputtering sibling.

Sam nodded, but when he reached his hand out for his brother's, he gasped in pain as the damaged muscles in his back were stretch. His gasp was followed by a series of coughs.

Dean immediately moved in to try to lift his brother to help him up. "Easy, Sammy," he gently encouraged.

A wave of dizziness washed over the pained and exhausted Winchester when he finally achieved a standing position and his legs gave way beneath him. Dean had to ease him gently back down with the help of Bobby who had moved to help when he saw the young man falling.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean asked worriedly as he knelt down beside his brother.

"D-dizzy (cough wheeze)….d-don't (cough..wheeze...cough) feel r-right," Sam shivered out as he looked at his brother with asking eyes.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he was unsure what answer to give his brother. It could be the injuries his brother was suffering from , but the unusual whistling sound he was making when he...

"You breathing okay?" Dean questioned suspiciously as he placed his hand gently on his brother's chest.

Sam nodded, but Dean was not so sure. Sam had inhaled water and it was possible some remained in his lungs threatening to keep the breathing Winchester from getting enough air.

Joshua put his hand out for Dean's keys. "I'll get the Impala and bring it as close as I can. We can carry him to it."

Dean nodded, reached his hand in his wet pocket and pulled out the keys. He tossed them to the hunter who quickly took off down the dock, scaled the stairs, and disappeared out of sight.

Sam felt the urge to cough, but held it in knowing the pain it would cause. Seconds later he gagged.

"Sam?" Dean asked when he saw his brother gag and squeeze his eyes shut.

"I th-think (cough) I s-swallowed (cough...cough...wheeze..cough) some w-water (gasp)," Sam offered trying to explain his sudden urge to throw up.

Sam glanced at the dock he was sitting on with Dean's help, and started to lay himself down. Bobby and Dean helped him so that he landed gently on his side and not his back.

Dean placed his hand on Sam's arm and looked worriedly up at Bobby. Sam's breathing was getting ragged.

The older hunter glanced back reflecting Dean's concern.

Sam dropped his forehead to the floating wooden structure and closed his eyes.

"Hey, little brother," Dean questioned worriedly. "Tell me what's going on."

" ( cough, wheeze, wheeze, cough) S-so (wheeze) t-tired," Sam whispered keeping his lids shut. A wave of shivers passed through him.

Dean checked the area above them for signs of the car as the two of them stayed by Sam's side waiting. Dean knew something was wrong. Sam's condition was worsening and he felt helpless to do anything about it.

Seconds later the Impala skidded to a stop in the unpaved parking lot above them, a cloud of dust wafted over the embankment and floated down towards the water indicating where the vehicle could be found.

Knowing Sam was no longer capable of walking, Dean gestured to Bobby for help. While Dean gently looped his hands under Sam's arms, Bobby grabbed the near limp hunter's legs. The two men raised the youngest Winchester up and began carrying him towards the stairs. Sam coughed and gasped with the movement. Joshua met them at the bottom and the three managed to get Sam up the stairs. Dean allowed Joshua to take the bulk of Sam's weight as he feared his bullet clipped arm, thought barely bleeding, might not hold out to go the full 20 feet up.

Half way up, Sam's head dropped back and his limbs went completely limp. All three hunters felt the muscle tension in his dangling body go lax at the same time and quickened their paces.

Upon arriving at the top, Dean opened the back door, crawled in, and reached out to receive Sam's unconscious body. Bobby and Joshua finally managed to get Sam's large body inside and shut the door.

"I saw signs for a hospital. It's off the highway a few exits up, going north from here," Joshua urgently explained as he tossed the keys to Bobby, who nodded and took off towards the driver's side. He slammed the already opened door shut as he got inside, threw the car in drive, and took off. Joshua remained behind to clean things up.

Dean held his brother's limp form in the back seat. Sam was facing Dean, on his side, his head resting in the crook of his brother's elbow. His face was relaxed as if he were sleeping, but Dean knew otherwise. Sam's knees were bent and pressing against the back seat while his long legs dangled beyond the edge of the black leather bench that promised to hold them.

Dean laid his hand gently on his brother's chest to feel his breathing. and checked his pulse and respirations. Sam's vitals were clearly weak and slow, but holding steady. His little brother's breathing now had a serious wheeze to it and Dean feared his brother's lungs were not able to get the air he needed.

"How's he doing?" Bobby called back as he observed Dean's careful inspections through the rearview mirror.

"He's still not breathing right. Think he's got water in his lungs," Dean explained worriedly as he brushed his brother's wet bangs out of his eyes. "We need to hurry, Bobby," Dean urged feeling like his brother's condition would soon be life threatening.

Dean looked down on his brother's unconscious face and held him tighter. His hand fisted his brother's wet, bloody shirt and he felt warm tears pooling in his eyes. They'd come to the end. The hunters were gone. They could finally move on and live. Now this?

"Sammy," Dean whispered, "Don't leave me, kiddo. Not now, not after everything we've made it through."

tbc

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I did two chapters together to avoid a cliffy and ooops, stumbled into another one! I'm hopeless! Please don't withhold chocolate! I truly tried to save you a cliffy, honestly!! Giggles Rachelly


	27. Breathe

**Previously on Supernatural:**

Dean held his brother's limp form in the back seat. Sam was facing Dean, on his side, his head resting in the crook of his brother's elbow. His face was relaxed as if he was sleeping, but Dean knew otherwise. Sam's knees were bent and pressing against the back seat while his long legs dangled beyond the edge of the black leather bench that promised to hold them.

Dean laid his hand gently on his brother's chest to feel his breathing and checked his pulse and respirations. Sam's vitals were clearly weak and slow, but holding steady. His little brother's breathing now had a serious wheeze to it and Dean feared his brother's lungs were not able to get the air he needed.

"How's he doing?" Bobby called back as he observed Dean's careful inspections through the rearview mirror.

"He's still not breathing right. Think he's got water in his lungs," Dean explained worriedly as he brushed his brother's wet bangs out of his eyes. "We need to hurry, Bobby," Dean urged feeling like his brother's condition would soon be life threatening.

Dean looked down on his brother's unconscious face and held him tighter. His hand fisted his brother's wet, bloody shirt and he felt warm tears pooling in his eyes. They'd come to the end. The hunters were gone. They could finally move on and live. Now this?

"Sammy," Dean whispered, "Don't leave me, kiddo. Not now, not after everything we've made it through."

**Chapter 27**

Bobby pulled the Impala up to the Emergency entrance, threw the gear in park, and jumped out of the car.

"I'll get help!" he called back to Dean as he bolted to the entrance and darted through the automatic doors.

Dean remained in the back seat holding his little brother tightly in his arms and willing Sam to take each and every breath.

"C'mon, kiddo, hang in there," Dean softly cooed as he gently jostled his brother towards him.

Sam's chest strained to draw in air, but was not very effective in doing so. His lungs were too full of water, and his position, folded on the back seat with his head cradled in his brother's lap, caused the water to prevent what little air his lungs were able to take in, from being absorbed. A high pitched, whistling sound announced each attempt to take in air; a wet, gurgling sound followed as Sam's body exhaled what it was not able to absorb. A slow trickle of water seemed to be released each time along with it. Sam's body was no longer making an attempt to cough or clear his airway.

"C'mon, Sammy, breathe," Dean whispered as he rubbed his brother's chest hoping to massage out the water that he knew was still in his lungs.

The wheezing and gurgling sounds Sam was making were slowly beginning to decrease and Dean knew Sam was losing his battle.

"Damn it! Where the hell are they?!" Dean called out as he looked towards the doors Bobby had disappeared behind. He feared if the medics didn't come soon, it would be too late. He glanced at his little brother as he paled and blued in his arms.

As Dean continued rubbing, he felt Sam's chest go still beneath his hand. His little brother's body became lifeless and water began draining out of his mouth in a steady stream.

"Oh, god, no," Dean whispered as he frantically reached for the handle of the door and threw it open, preparing to carry his brother to where he could get him some help.

The opposite passenger door suddenly flung open and a paramedic crawled in the back seat with him. Two more remained outside along with Bobby.

"What happened?" the medic asked whipping out his stethoscope to listen to Sam's chest.

"He almost drowned. He isn't breathing," the panicked Winchester called out.

Dean leaned Sam's body slightly away from his chest to allow the medic to slip the stethoscope inside Sam's shirt. He listened for only a few seconds and called for help from the other two medics that were waiting outside the car behind him.

"He's in respiratory arrest! I need him out NOW!" the medic yelled urgently as he quickly withdrew from the Impala.

A flurry of shouts and activity ensued. Seconds later, Sam was pulled forcefully by the pant legs to the edge of the seat, essentially ripping him from Dean's arms.

"Watch his back!" Dean called out as he tried to help. He found it painful to have his little brother torn from him by someone who had no idea what he had suffered.

Sam's knees and belt were then grabbed and pulled outward until another medic could get a good hold of his upper body and the three men quickly hoisted him up and onto the waiting gurney. Seconds later, they took off amidst shouts for assistance from the hospital staff.

Dean scrambled across the back seat to follow. He was determined to go wherever his little brother was being taken. Bobby closed the door and shadowed close behind.

Dean pursued Sam all the way to the triage doors, but as he tried to continue on through, he was stopped by a firm hand on his arm. He quickly turned around to shake it off, but was unable too.

"Bobby, let me go!" Dean growled as he turned to see which room they were taking Sam too.

"Dean, you need to wait here. I know you want to help, but you'll only be in the way. Let them do what they have to."

"No, Bobby, if he doesn't…..if something happens….. I want to be there," Dean whispered out with tears in his eyes as he once again tried to move inside the triage doors.

"Look at me, Dean," Bobby firmly insisted as he took the despairing young man's arms in his hands and turned him around. "Sam's gonna be okay," Bobby raised his eyebrows and nodded trying to assure Dean and get him to agree with him. He pointed to Dean's heart. "You have to believe that."

Bobby looked deep into Dean's eyes exuding confidence that Sam would be alright and he waited for Dean to acknowledge it as well.

Dean nodded and then freed himself from Bobby's grasp and attempted to go through the doors to be with his brother again.

A nearby nurse moved in to tell the determined young hunter he was not allowed back.

Bobby, knowing Dean would never allow anyone to keep him from his brother, held up a finger asking her to wait. He quickly reached for the escaping hunter and moved directly into his path.

The young Winchester glared at the hunter with angry eyes.

"You'll be more help to him if you stay here. They may have some questions," Bobby gently counseled, hoping that his appeal to Dean's sense of helping Sam would get the hunter to comply and willingly remain outside.

Dean paused. "No, Bobby. I need to be in there with him. He needs me. You stay out here and answer the damn questions. Now get out of my way!"

The determined hunter tried to push past the family friend.

Bobby moved to block and continued to restrain him by the arms.

The nurse watched anxiously as the two bruised and bloody hunters argued and then she began to move slowly towards the phone to call security.

Bobby sensed what she was about to do and knew he had to stop Dean before she placed her call.

"Sam's unconscious, Dean!" the hunter blatanly explained. "He won't know you're there. You'll only be a distraction and you want them to focus on Sam, don't you?"

Dean stopped, confused and stunned by Bobby's harsh words.

Bobby looked over at the nurse, his eyes pleading for her to give them one more minute.

Dean looked through the window. Sam was no longer in sight. He looked back at Bobby, hesitated and finally wiped his hand across his face and nodded.

Bobby loosened his grip on Dean's arm and tapped him twice on his shoulder in an 'atta boy' way. He looked back over to the nurse and was pleased that she had placed the receiver back down having never placed the call.

The weary family friend quickly turned around to figure out the place… where to sit and where to register. He knew he needed to redirect Dean before the older sibling changed his mind.

He spotted a counter off to his left and three small booths beyond it. Having been in hospitals many times, he knew to check in at the counter and then wait to register at the booths. He turned back to Dean who stood blank faced looking through the small window into the triage hallway hoping to catch a glimpse of something that might let him know how Sam was doing.

"C'mon, son," Bobby beckoned, "Let's get him checked in."

Dean continued to remain unmoving and just stared.

"Dean"

The young hunter knew he should follow, but somehow his feet seemed to have joined with the floor and he found himself unable to move away, as if in doing so, he might somehow be leaving Sam.

"C'mon, son," Bobby repeated gently. "Let's get him registered and see where things go from there."

Dean looked back through the window, back to Bobby, and finally found himself able to unglue his feet from the floor. He began mechanically following Bobby to the receptionist.

oooOOOooo

After completing the medical and insurance forms, Sam Davison was officially registered.

Dean had begged the registrar for information on Sam's well being numerous times as he completed the various forms, but had been constantly told that she didn't have access to that kind of information.

He decided to give it one more try now that the forms were finished, hoping that his sheer persistence might lead to some answers or at least get him directed towards someone who could get them.

The registrar glared at Dean and repeated her spiel between clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, SIR, I _don't_ have _access _to that _kind_ of information!" the wisp of a woman screeched.

"Then who the hell does?" Dean growled out in a loud voice finding her helplessness intolerable.

Bobby, who had been sitting beside the irritated hunter while he completed the forms, gently grabbed his arm, pulled him upwards and escorted him away.

"You need to calm down or you're liable to get us thrown out of here," Bobby cautioned.

Dean flailed his arms upward and out in frustration and worry.

"I need to know something, Bobby. Anything! Is he breathing? Is he alive! I need to know!" Dean exclaimed as he began pacing in front of Bobby.

Bobby joined him, trying to match his steps.

"I know you do. This waiting thing is crap, but getting yourself kicked out of here isn't gonna help you find out about Sam. You need to calm down."

Dean stopped, bit his lip and nodded. Bobby was right. He needed to calm down. He turned to face the trusted family friend.

"You think he's okay?" Dean finally asked as he searched Bobby's eyes for an honest answer, feeling like Bobby's best guess was better than not knowing anything at all.

Bobby wanted to say yes, but he really didn't know and he was not about to lie to Dean. The kid trusted him and he would not betray that trust.

"I don't know," Bobby answered softly. Then he continued wanting to offer the worried Winchester some hope. "But I'm thinking, no news is good news, right? I mean, if he didn't make it, we'd know by now."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. The reasoning was kind of dark, but probably right. If Sam had died, the doctor would have come and told them.

He sighed and nodded in agreement.

"So we're gonna take a seat and wait until someone tells us that he's okay, alright?" Bobby asked knowing there was no room for Dean to disagree.

Bobby moved over to two vacant seats and made a gesture for Dean to sit down.

The older Winchester reluctantly obliged. Waiting was not his thing, doing was, and he found the whole thing painful..

Bobby eyed the distressed sibling as he sunk into the orange vinyl chair beside him and laid back against the wall with his eyes looking up to the ceiling. He felt badly for being so honest with the kid. Sure he didn't know if Sam was okay or not, but he believed he would be.

"I think he's going to be okay, Dean," Bobby finally stated having felt his uncertain answer earlier had clearly sabotaged Dean's need for hope. "I don't know for sure, but I believe he will be."

Dean nodded wanting so much to believe it himself.

"I mean it. Sam's a fighter. Look how far he's come."

Dean nodded again and then sighed.

Bobby could tell the hunter had something to say and he had a good idea what it was.

Moments later, after a period of silence, Bobby's idea became validated.

"It should be me in there, not him," Dean uttered as he looked off at the triage doors. "I didn't know Bracken had worked his way up to me. Damn it!" Dean punched the arm of the chair. " If I had just taken him out…."

"Sam still would have jumped in to save him," Bobby gently finished.

Dean eyed the knowing hunter and slowly nodded. Bobby was right. Sam would have done the same thing and he knew it. He loved and hated that about Sam.

"This is not your fault, Son. You didn't mess up," Bobby continued.

"Yeah, well, it feels like it," Dean answered. "I should have protected him from this."

"Remember what we talked about, Dean. You over protect him? You'll end up keeping him from being who he is, who he's meant to be….and based on what I saw today, who he is …is pretty damn amazing. You don't want to change that, do you?"

Dean smiled and whispered a laugh as a tear slid down his cheek. "Why the hell does he have to be so damn selfless?"

"Seems to me he's not the only Winchester wired that way," Bobby added with a slight smile as he tapped Dean on the knee.

Dean eyed the huntsman again and wondered how the hell the guy knew so much about the two of them.

Dean glanced over to the receptionist and looked like he was considering approaching her again for information about Sam. Bobby decided he better intervene.

"What do you say we get washed up? I think we're scaring the crap out of everybody here," Bobby said with a smile as he pointed to a mother who was holding her young, curious child close and covering his eyes while she stared horrified at the two bloodied, bruised, and swollen faced men.

Dean glanced over and smiled at the terrified young woman as the dried blood on his lip cracked and flaked onto his pants. He had to admit, the two of them looked like they had just clawed their way out of hell and were soon to keel over and die. He figured the woman had no idea he and Sam often looked that way after a hunt, and that it really didn't mean anything.

"Besides, I'm sick of people asking me if I've registered yet," Bobby grouched.

"They're asking you that because of your mind, not cuz of the way you look," Dean jested, not being able to resist ribbing the hunter who just set him up with an easy pitch.

Bobby gave Dean an annoyed look.

"Wise ass" He shook his head. Damn, even when the kid was down, he could still get him.

"I'm serious," the older hunter corrected.

Dean looked at Bobby's bloody, beat up face and then glanced down at himself, bloodied from Bracken's assaults and Sam's back.

"Yeah, okay, but you go first, I want to be here for a bit in case Sam needs me."

Bobby nodded and stood up, then turned around to face Dean.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked gently, not really feeling good about leaving the kid alone.

Dean looked at Bobby with a 'you gotta even ask' expression.

"Yeah, I know, you'll be okay when Sam's okay," Bobby interpreted.

Dean nodded, glad the hunter understood. Bobby made his way off to the wash room.

Twenty minutes later, after Bobby returned and promised to get Dean the second there was any news or even a doctor in sight, the older sibling made his way to the restroom to clean up as well.

After completing the fastest clean up in history, Dean returned to his seat next to Bobby and the two began what seemed like an endless wait.

oooOOOooo

Two hours later, Joshua burst through the emergency room doors, and just as Dean and Bobby had been before him, he was flooded with hospital personal who were trying to give him medical attention.

He growled at their fussings, finding them unnecessary and annoying. The hunter had made a pact with himself years ago that if he ever needed medical attention, he would kill himself first before going to a hospital. He hated the sterility of the places, the over abundance of people, and all the emotions that hung in the air like a dead stench.

But as he moved past the flurry, he found he wanted to be there and realized, instead of being detached as he had expected he would've been, he belonged there as a member of the "emotional" community that existed within its sterile walls. He was deeply concerned for John's boy and anxious to hear that he was okay.

After pushing through the medical crowd, the soggy, bruised and swollen faced hunter made his way to Dean and Bobby.

"How's the boy?" Joshua's deep voice questioned.

"We're waiting to hear," Bobby answered when Dean didn't respond.

The despondent young Winchester sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands folded, head propped up on his pointer fingers, just staring at the triage door waiting for news of his little brother's condition. When Sam was brought in, he was in respiratory distress. Since then, they had heard nothing.

Bobby had busied himself the last hour and a half, trying to be there for Dean offering to get him a sandwich or at least a drink, but of course, Dean wouldn't eat. There was no point in his mind. If Sam didn't make it there would be no reason to keep on living.

Joshua began pacing, to the snack machine, to the water fountain, anywhere to keep his nervous energy at bay. At the end of each lap, he would study John's older boy, shake his head and go back again.

oooOOOooo'

Two unbearable hours later, a doctor emerged and called for Dean Davison, the family relative mentioned on Samuel Davison's chart. The medical professional was quite surprised to see three large, badly bruised and bloodied men come forward almost instantly.

"How is he?" Dean questioned nervously as Bobby took up a position behind and slightly to the left of him and placed his hand gently on Dean's shoulder.

Joshua shoved his hands deep into his pockets and braced himself for the news. Having newfound feelings was one thing, but having them be fear, worry, and concern was a little beyond tolerable for the normally stoic man.

The doctor presumed the questioning young man before him was Dean.

"He's stabilized which is good. It was a little touch and go for a bit, but he's responding well to treatment."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Dean questioned, concerned by the doctor's mention that Sam required treatment.

"He's suffering from what we call Respiratory Distress Syndrome (RDS). It is a rare condition that can develop one to forty-eight hours after a near drowning victim has been resuscitated. If not treated aggressively, it can cause Secondary Drowning.

Bobby and Joshua glanced at Dean to see how the older sibling was taking the news. Both were familiar with Secondary Drowning and knew it was deadly. It was obvious, by Dean's reaction, he was not.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Dean uttered as he rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Are you saying he could still drown?"

"Yes," the doctor gently stated.

"How the hell does he drown in a hospital? He's breathing isn't he?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's breathing _with assistance_."

Dean frowned, not liking that the doctor qualified Sam's breathing as needing assistance. Images of his brother being on the ventilator and feeding tube with wires snaking all over him monitoring whether he was alive, flashed through his troubled mind and he found himself unable to respond.

The doctor, realizing the young man was stunned, thought it best to explain.

"When the person is immersed in water, he holds his breath. As he does so, the oxygen in his lungs gets used up and the body reaches its Hold Breakpoint. Simply stated, that means the carbon dioxide levels increase to a point of being toxic and a person can no longer voluntarily hold his breath. Upon release, he inhales water. Two things can happen. A normal reflex can shut off the breathing tube, protecting the lungs and forcing the water into the stomach or, if the reflex does not occur, the water can go directly into the lungs. In Sam's case, it went directly into his lungs. It's called Wet Drowning."

The doctor looked at Dean to see if the young man was following.

Dean nodded all the while thinking that this couldn't really be happening.

"Wet Drowning can lead to serious secondary complications including Secondary Drowning and that is why we are pursuing aggressive treatment," the doctor gently explained.

"And if it doesn't work?" Dean asked guardedly.

"If he doesn't respond to treatment, his lungs will collapse."

Dean swallowed hard at the finality of the doctor's tone. "Yeah, but uh, they can be re-inflated, right? I mean his lungs have collapsed before and he's been okay."

"Not in the case of a drowning. If his lungs collapse, it would be due to damage. They would not be able to be re-inflated," the doctor explained as gently as he could. "In other words, without working lungs, he would die."

Dean teetered backwards with the doctor's statement.

Bobby squeezed Dean's shoulder letting the hunter know he was there. Joshua, on the other hand, began to get angry.

"Yeah, well, this kid's not gonna die, so you better figure something out!" he growled.

Bobby quickly tried to soften the harshness of the hunter's words. "So how do you stop it from happening?"

"Like I said, we're aggressively treating his symptoms and also taking preventative measures. We suctioned fairly large amounts of water from his lungs and he is breathing more normally now with therapeutic oxygen support."

The three hunters stared blankly at the doctor.

"Oxygen dosed with Sufficants to help with the normal cycle of inhalation and exhalation," the doctor added to clarify. " Already his oxygen levels have increased and his carbon dioxide and blood acid levels have decreased."

"And if that works?" Bobby asked hopefully.

"Assuming his lungs have not been permanently damaged and he responds to treatment without complications, the prognosis is very good."

Dean shifted nervously. "Damaged?"

"We suspect there may be some damage to the alveoli or air sacs in his lungs. Based on his oxygen and carbon dioxide levels, a portion of these sacs are not functioning correctly."

"I thought you just said his whatever levels were better!" Joshua questioned aggressively.

"Better, but not where they need to be," the doctor clarified.

Dean frowned.

"Now the dysfunction could be temporary and reversible or there could be permanent damage. I've put him on a strong rigor of steroids to speed healing and the therapeutic oxygen, which I mentioned earlier aids in the exchange of oxygen in the lungs, but only time will tell which situation we're dealing with. ….Can you tell me if he was immersed in fresh water or salt water?"

"Salt," Joshua declared flatly wondering what the hell that had to do with anything.

"That would explain the early onset. RDS develops faster with salt water because salt interferes with the functioning of the alveoli," the doctor muttered more to himself than to the three before him.

"You said something about preventative treatment," Dean questioned."What are you trying to prevent?"

"We're currently testing the extracted water from Sam's lungs for bacterial content or any other potentially harmful pathogens. I'm administering strong antibiotics to try to prevent infection. The good thing about salt water is that it contains less contaminates. Apart from infection, pneumonia remains my only other concern. Antibiotics should prevent both. A lot will depend on the condition of his lungs."

"Bottom line, Doc, is he gonna be okay?" Dean questioned honestly as he tried to get his head around all the information that had been thrown at him. He found himself somewhat lost between Secondary Drowning, damage, infection, and pneumonia.

"Assuming all goes well and there's no permanent damage, a full recovery can be expected," the doctor reiterated trying to offer the seemingly dazed young man some comfort.

"What about his back?" Dean asked as his attentions quickly turned to the second most threatening thing for his brother.

"He's got some tissue, muscle, and bone damage. We've sutured all the openings. Only time will tell if the injuries sustained will result in nerve damage, but I expect the muscles and bones will heal in time and, with physical therapy, should return to normal functioning. Infection, once again remains my greatest concern, but the antibiotics I'm giving him should take care of that."

Dean shook his head. Sam was gonna love to hear he needed more physical therapy.

"By the way, what exactly happened?" the doctor asked. He hadn't been able to come up with any possible explanations.

The three hunters looked blankly at each other.

Bobby finally spoke up.

"He got dragged under my boat... by the blades of the motor. I shut off the engine as soon as I realized what was happening," he offered waiting to see if the medical professional would buy it.

Joshua and Dean both nodded awkwardly.

The doctor eyed the men. He had a feeling the bruises on their faces and blood on their clothing told of a more complicated story, but his primary concern was his patient and technically, he'd gotten the information he needed. Well, everything except an explanation of the young man's behavior in triage.

"One last question. Does Sam have a phobia of sedation or any other phobias that I should know about while treating him?" the doctor asked sincerely.

"Phobias? Sam? No," Dean answered emphatically. "Well except for clowns, maybe," Dean answered with an affectionate smirk.

Bobby and Joshua both looked at Dean with surprise.

"Why?" Dean asked curiously.

"Well, he became extremely upset when I tried to sedate him after he gained consciousness. My staff had to physically restrain him to put him under so that he wouldn't hurt himself during suturing. He kept calling for you and begging us not to do it."

"Son of a bitch! Why the hell didn't you come and get me?" Dean growled out as he imagined his brother suffering the injection after having been kept in a drug induced coma for so long, strung out, and later sedated by Bracken. The kid had every reason to be terrified of needles and Dean was furious that they hadn't come to get him when Sam needed him.

Dean rubbed the top of his head as he pictured Sam calling frantically for him. "Damn it!" he cursed not really knowing if he was more angry at the doctor for restraining Sam or angry at himself for ever having allowed Bobby to talk him into remaining behind while Sam was being worked on.

Bobby watched nervously as he saw the young hunter's eyes go dark. He knew the kid was about to lose it and feared what would happen next.

A sudden burst of anger forced the infuriated Winchester into action. He angrily pushed past the doctor and moved towards triage to respond to his brother's unanswered call.

The doctor quickly called out to the distressed young man wanting him to understand that his decision was based on Sam's well being and not some blatant disregard for his patient's needs.

"You'd have jeopardized the sterile environment….risked giving him an infection. It could have cost him his life!"

Dean froze in his tracks and turned around. He searched his eyes for confirmation that it was the truth, that the doctor had done what was best for Sam.

The doctor nodded apologetically.

Dean began to slowly calm.

"What about now? Can I see him, now?" Dean asked, his eyes still darkened but starting to soften.

"He's sedated, but we can bring you back in a few minutes if you'd like."

Dean nodded, though he found a few minutes wait almost intolerable.

"I'll send my nurse for you," the doctor explained, then smiled at the three hunters and turned to re-enter the triage ward.

oooOOOooo

In a matter of minutes, Dean was ushered through the triage doors and lead to Sam's room. He gently pushed the door open and quietly slipped inside.

The room was barely lit. The shadowy darkness created an almost calm atmosphere. It took a minute for Dean's eyes to adjust to the soft glow of the dimmed lighting over Sam's bed.

Dean stood in silence as he took in his little brother's still form.

Sam was positioned on his right side, facing Dean. His bruised and swollen face lay gently on the soft white pillow; his brown hair lay disheveled across his forehead and the top of his pillow. A soft steady hiss came from an oxygen tube that rested just above his top lip, under his nose. Sam's knees were bent almost in a fetal position, up close to his chest. An IV snaked from a port in his arm, over his shoulder, and up to an IV stand off to his right. A large rectangular foam like pillow was sandwiched between his arms as they reached out across the bed. It was obvious the support was there to try to raise his left arm so that his back could remain straight for healing.

Dean sighed and wiped his fingers across his lips and then up through his hair. The kid looked like he'd been through hell….again.

He slowly approached the side of the bed and placed his hand in his brother's.

"Hey, Sammy," he whispered softly finding even his whisper to be loud in the quiet of the room.

Sam lay still and unresponsive as if asleep.

Dean looked his brother over from head to toe. The sting of tears pricked in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he breathlessly whispered as he searched his brother's damaged face. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It should be me lying there, not you."

Dean adjusted Sam's sterile white blanket up over his shoulders and placed the IV tube on top being careful not to disturb it down by the port. He sighed and returned his gaze to his brother's face.

"I tried so hard to keep you safe, Sammy," Dean confessed softly as his forehead wrinkled in distress. "But I, ...well...I..." Dean paused as he was over come with emotion. "Aw, hell." A single tear managed to escape and he sadly brushed it aside.

"I screwed up, little brother." Dean reached his hand up and brushed Sam's bangs away from his closed eyes. Another tear slowly drizzled down his bruised cheek. "I'm sorry."

He squeezed his brother's hand as if in apology, then, realizing it was his brother's numb hand, turned it over in his, and gently rubbed the back of it where he knew Sam had experienced some feeling. He wanted his brother to know he was there, that he'd answered his call even though a little late, and that he would be there at his side until he was able to go home.

"And I hope that maybe someday, you can for-give me," Dean's needy voice cracked as he completed his wish.

Dean stood in silence for a while at Sam's side holding his hand, and then gently laid his brother's hand back on the foam pillow, turned, pulled up a nearby chair and took up a bedside vigil, a position he had taken up too many times in the recent past. He sat in silence and watched his sleeping brother, listening to Sam's breathing, which was even and clear. He tried to take comfort in the fact that Sam was breathing on his own.

Suddenly, the door cracked open and a rather large, black nurse pushed her way in. She paused, not realizing Sam had a family member in with him.

Dean turned to see who was entering the room.

"I'll come back later," she whispered trying hard not to disturb the young dejected man who was sitting in the chair in the dark.

"No, please, come in," Dean beckoned as he rose from his seat. " Are you here to check on Sam?" he whispered trying not to disturb his sibling. He was desperate to know his little brother's current condition.

"Yes, honey, but I can come back in a few minutes," her southern voice drawled out.

"Actually, I'd like to know how he's doing," Dean explained beckoning with his eyes for the woman to come in and tell him.

She smiled warmly. "Well, then, I guess I'll get to figuring it out for you," she said softly with a wink as she approached Sam's bed on the opposite side.

Dean remained standing, eager to hear what she had to say.

"You his family?" the large lady asked kindly as she checked Sam's pulse.

"Yeah, he's my brother," Dean admitted proudly.

"Ah, that's nice. I think all boys should have a brother. Makes life easier that way, you know? You have a built in best friend right in your own family. If ya get along, that is. …..Pulse is good," she added smiling at Dean.

Dean smiled back, pleased with the news and feeling warmed by the kind woman's presence. He'd never looked at it that way, but it made sense. Sam was his best friend and his little brother definitely made life a little easier to take. More to worry about, but easier to take.

"You boys close?" she asked as she checked Sam's blood pressure. Sam remained unaware.

"Me and my brother travel together," Dean offered as an answer. He figured that said it all.

The nurse nodded and smiled. "Let me guess, you're the expressive one," she teased in a friendly way. "Temperature's good," she explained and then checked Sam's chart. " Oxygen levels are up a bit.. s'good."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, well, I'm afraid if you want expressive, you'll have to wait til Sammy, here, wakes up. Kid defines the word expressive."

"S'at right?"

Dean nodded.

"So who's older? You, am I right?" she asked as she lowered Sam's blanket and opened his gown to check on his back. "Oh, honey," she whispered sympathetically when she saw his bloody bandages running clear across his back and from top to bottom.

Dean shifted nervously and moved around to her side of the bed. He wanted to see for himself how his little brother's back was doing.

Dean frowned when he took in the sight. Sam's skin was bunched, held together by rows and rows of black sutures. The skin was swollen, inflamed, and oozing. Dean felt sick just looking at it.

The nurse was aware of Dean's reaction and tried to distract him with their conversation while she changed the bandages. She had sensed he was carrying a burden and wanted to help him unload it.

"You the older one?" she asked as she gently removed the bandages that were soaked and replaced them with clean ones. It was difficult for her to tape them in place since wherever she would place the sticky strips, there were more bandages and stitches in the way.

Dean nodded.

"Thought so."

"How can you tell?" Dean asked as he winced when one of the bandages stuck to a loose end of a stitch.

Dean instinctively reached forward to try to help. He was used to caring for Sammy and he couldn't help but feel like he should be the one doing it now. He knew the nurse was trying to be gentle, but he had a low tolerance for her doing anything that might cause Sam pain.

The nurse watched Dean's hands reach forward to help and then pull back when the bandage gave way and she couldn't help but smile.

"You just have a big brother way 'boutcha," she replied with a wink.

Dean shrugged. In his book, he didn't feel like he'd been much of a big brother for Sam lately. To him, being a big brother meant keeping your little brother safe and lately, Sam had been anything but safe.

"Bet you're a good one," she knowingly added with a smile as she finished up, re-coved Sam with the blanket, and moved to change Sam's IV bag. It was almost empty and in need of replacement.

"Not so much, lately," Dean stated sadly.

"Now, honey, why would you be sayin' that?" her soft voice cooed. She was pleased that the young battered man who stood before her had dropped his shield and opened his heart ever so slightly to her.

Dean looked at Sam laid out helpless of the bed and back at her with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, I see. Somehow this is all your doin'," she concluded for the nonverbal sibling, overemphasizing that Dean's guilt suggested he was the one who had done all the harm to his brother.

Dean looked her in the eyes, not sure what he wanted to say. He smiled awkwardly at her suggestion that he had hurt Sam. He would never hurt Sam, not deliberately anyways. "Well, no, I didn't actually..."

The nurse interrupted.

"'S right, you didn't. Baby, bad stuff happens. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt him. I can tell by your heart. You can't go blamin' yourself for somethin' ya didn't do. 'Sides, he's gonna be just fine. I just know it. Trust me. I got special knowin' about things and I seen him, healthy and strong. You wait and see," she added with a gentle tug on Dean's arm.

Dean eyed the woman suspiciously trying to figure out if she was just being kind or if there was something else about her. He searched her face and looked deep in her eyes. She smiled and quickly turned away heading toward the door.

"Now I gotta go. Your brother is doing just fine. You hold onto that, now, ya hear?"

Dean nodded and smiled as she slipped back out the door and closed it softly behind her.

As she clicked the door shut, Sam stirred. Moments later he opened his eyes.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean gently whispered as he moved in closer so that Sam could see him.

Sam's glaced eyes blinked slowly and the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward. It wasn't much, but Dean could tell, Sam knew he was there.

Sam swallowed uncomfortably and attempted to speak.

"dhhhh"

The suctioning of his lungs had irritated his throat and trachea so badly that they were both swollen. The result was a raspy, inaudible voice that could not easily be molded into words.

Dean, however, had no trouble understanding his little brother even with his difficulty.

"Yeah, Sammy, it's me," Dean assured. " Shhh, just rest, okay? Don't try to talk," Dean counseled as he placed his left hand gently on his brother's arm and his right on his brother's shoulder.

Sam blinked slowly again and searched his older brother's eyes.

Dean knew Sam was looking to understand what was happening. Worry was eminating from his little brother's eyes.

"It's okay. I won't let them sedate you. I promise. I'm right here. You rest, everything's gonna be..."

Sam's eyes closed before Dean had finished. His older sibling waited for them to reopen, but they never did. Sam had heard it was okay, and from Dean, that was all he needed to know, that his brother was there and that everything was gonna be...

"… okay," Dean finished to his sleeping brother.

Dean placed his hand gently on Sam's head and rested it there. He lingered for a moment studying his brother's features and then stepped back and returned to his bedside vigil. It was hard to see Sam so briefly, and yet it felt good to know his little brother knew he was there, that he had answered his call.

TBC


	28. Flip

Ambush Chapter 28

The next few days went by slowly as Dean sat vigil at Sam's bedside. The nearly drowned Winchester began to run a high grade fever from a bacterial infection that developed in one of the lobes of his lungs. He suffered fever induced chills, a fever convulsion, and heavy chest congestion that soon spread to a second lobe.

The doctor, knowing Sam's dropping oxygen levels would soon become life threatening, ordered Sam the strongest antibiotics available even in light of the potential side effects and initiated a discussion with Dean about the possibility of putting Sam on a ventilator.

The mere mention of Sam not being able to breathe on his own and being hooked up to a ventilator staggered Dean. His mind, already racked with headaches and dizziness from his concussion, registered nothing after the word 'ventilator'. It was as if the doctor's mouth was moving in slow motion, his words coming out of his mouth as if spoken under water, and the world all around him had somehow come to a stop.

The dazed sibling just stared numbly at the medical professional before him and it wasn't until the man reached out and grabbed his arm that Dean's mind fast forwarded back to real time.

"Do you understand?" the doctor asked with a tone that suggested he'd asked it a few times before.

Dean, having no idea what had been said, asked the man to go over it again, though for Dean it would be the first time he'd be hearing it. The bottom line was with Sam's lungs so weak from his seven week coma and now, near drowning, there was a concern that if he were placed on a respirator, he might not be able to be weaned off later. The result would be either a lifetime of mechanical breathing or death. If Sam didn't receive respiratory assistance now, he might bounce back in response to the stronger antibiotics and be fine, or his lungs could weaken to the point that even once given respiratory help, his body might be too damaged to take in the mechanically provided air and he would most likely die. The doctor spent what seemed like an eternity to Dean discussing all the possibilities and dangers. Since Sam was too sick and fevered to be involved in the decision, the doctor looked to Dean, his nearest family relative to decide what would be done.

After giving all the warnings , the doctor offered to give Dean some time to think it over and said he'd be back in a few minutes.

Dean remembered the man mumbling something about not taking too long or Sam's chances for successful respiratory assist would decrease.

The door swooshed shut and Dean stood frozen in place as if his shoes had been glued to the floor. His mind was full and empty at the same time. Full of fear, despair, and dread and empty of hope and dreams and Sam. God he missed his brother being safe and well and happy. He deserved happy. Of all the people in the world Dean could think of, Sam deserved to be happy, not lying in a bed, sick and pained, waiting for his brother to make a decision that could ruin or claim his life forever.

Dean glanced numbly at the clock on the wall. The doctor would be back in a few minutes, expecting a decision he wasn't sure he could make.

He slowly turned his head and dared to look at his little brother lying helplessly on his side, drenched in a fever induced sweat, struggling to suck in enough air through the congestion that was threatening to suffocate him to stay alive for a few minutes at a time. His lips were slightly discolored, and Dean recognized the shade. He'd seen it before….when his little brother lay beaten and dying on the roadhouse floor and when he'd been pulled from the bay. Sam's lips should never be blue, the older sibling lamented. They should be full of color, of life, the life a normal, happy twenty- four year old should have…not the gray blue of a dying man.

Drawn by his brother's suffering and his insatiable desire to take away his pain, Dean unstuck his shoes and moved over to his brother's pained form as he lay on his side in an almost fetal position under the sterile white hospital blanket.

He stood for a moment and then leaned over and gently pulled the damp blanket higher up on his brother's shoulders. His bruised ribs cried out in pain, but he continued adjusting the blankets until he felt Sam was covered, then he slipped his hand inside Sam's open palm. He used his other hand to lift Sam's unmoving fingers and hold them molded around his own and then leaned in close in the hopes that his little brother might hear him and awaken from his fever induced, oxygen deprived sleep.

"Hey kiddo," he whispered softly to his sweat drenched sibling as Sam trembled with fever and struggled to draw in a breath.

"I, uh….. I got to make a decision, Sammy…..and I …,"Dean closed his eyes and fought to continue. "I don't know what to do," Dean whispered out vulnerably as his eyes blurred with salty tears.

He studied his brother's face hoping to see some sign that Sam could hear him and help him choose the right thing.

Sam, lost in the world that exists between asleep and unconsciousness, could not hear his brother's distressed voice.

"If I say yes to helping you now, you might not be able to breathe on your own ever again," Dean sadly whispered out the first possibility.

Dean watched his brother's eyelids to see if they moved or showed any reaction to the weight of the decision he was putting before him. Sam's closed lids remained unchanged.

Dean took a deep breath and continued more to himself than to Sam this time as he was now sure he was going to have to make this decision alone.

"If I say no and we wait to see if the medicine will work and you don't get better, it might be too late to help you and you would…..." Dean bit his lip as the salty tears finally overflowed.

He reached out his fingers and pushed Sam's wet bangs to the side. It wasn't that they were in the way, it was more that Dean needed to make contact with his silent sibling in the hopes that Sam might open his eyes and help him decide.

Sam continued wheezing in and out, his fevered breath felt so hot against Dean's wrist.

Dean sat, broken, beside Sam. How do he make a choice that could end your brother's life or condemn him to a respirator for the remainder of it? He couldn't. And yet, his decision might do exactly that. It was an impossible decision to make and Dean felt paralyzed by it.

"Please, Sammy, tell me what you want me to do," he begged his suffering sibling as tears began to slowly find their way down his badly bruised features.

Dean looked in his brother's face and cocked his head as his mind suddenly flashed back to their conversation in the hospital after Sam came out of his coma. He and Sam had chosen to live, not survive, but to live. Sam would rather die, than survive and the only way for Sam to live was without a respirator. Only one choice offered that possibility and Dean finally had his answer.

Dean was grateful for the memory and in a way felt like Sam had answered the ominous question for him.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean whispered appreciatively. He paused for a moment. " Now you gotta come through, alright? If we do this you gotta fight hard." He placed his hand on his brother's neck and rested his forehead against Sam's as if willing the kid all the fight he had in his heart. Eventually he pulled his head back and coached his brother. "Fight hard, kiddo.And don't give up. Remember, you got a mountain to climb with me."

Dean sat in silence beside his brother and waited to deliver his message.

The doctor returned five minutes later for Dean's decision.

Dean placed his hand on Sam's wrist and spoke for the both of them. "We'll wait to see if the antibiotics will work."

"You understand that by waiting you are decreasing his chances of being able to be successfully ventilated and even if we are able to ventilate, he will have almost no chance of being weaned off because of the damage he will have suffered?

Dean nodded nervously and attempted to answer. His mouth formed the word yes, but no sound came out. How could it? He could never voice a yes because to do so would be to admit he could accept those choices and he couldn't, not now, not ever.

oooOOOooo

Time went by painfully slow as Dean waited minute by minute to see if the medicine would work and if his little brother could make it until it did. His oxygen levels dropped for a bit and then seemed to level off right on the edge of survivable. Sam struggled with short, shallow, panting fevered breaths and whistling, wheezing, gurgling congested air exchanges for a while and unfortunately suffered muscle aches, nausea, and abdominal pain in reaction to the high doses of strong antibiotics.

Dean remained faithful at Sam's side. He iced his brother's wrists, neck and forehead trying to cool him, and held his hand when Sam awakened and struggled in pain to breathe. Dean coached him through the pain when his body was racked with chills that shook his frame and pulled mercilessly on his stitches and torn tissues and rubbed his pained muscles as they ached in reaction to the antibiotics. He talked to Sam, told him of the decision that he had made and asked if he agreed. Sam nodded, unable to speak due to lack of air. His eyes stayed fixed on Dean whenever they opened as if his very existence depended on his brother's presence and though unable to express anything in words, Sam's eyes told Dean of pain, fear, sickness and slow suffocation.

Sam continued to refuse sedation, which was painful for Dean who watched his little brother suffer needlessly, but he honored his promise and made sure the medical staff did the same.

Over the course of the hospital stay, Dean's severely bruised face and colorfully marbled body changed from purple to blue, and then to green and eventually yellow as it slowly began healing from the pummeling he had suffered at Bracken's hands. The severe headaches that were accompanied by dizziness and nausea eventually lessened as the concussion he had slowly faded away. His ribs remained painful, but he chose not to have them wrapped. He wanted to have full range of motion so that he could help Sam with his care.

By the end of the tenth day, largely due to the change in antibiotics, the infection was defeated and the fever disappeared along with it. After that, Sam's lungs experienced no further complications. Even the damage, that had been a concern at first, turned out to be temporary and the young Winchester's breathing finally returned to normal a few days after that.

With his back healing with no signs of infection and his lungs improving daily, the doctor's prognosis was soon to be fulfilled and it was determined that Sam would be released if his progress continued.

oooOOOooo

Dean, for the first time in a long time, began feeling like things were finally turning around for he and his brother and he found the anticipation of returning to a 'normal' life of hunting and road trips, with Sam riding shotgun, almost uncontainable.

Sam enjoyed his brother's enthusiasm and found it contagious. Though often the brunt of Dean's playfulness, he liked the sense of normalcy it brought. Dean had been shadowed for months by constant worry and it was good to see his older brother free of that. Dean was Sam's meter for if things were okay and based on his brother's lightheartedness recently, Sam felt everything was going to be just fine.

Sam tried to get Dean to start taking care of himself for a change. Ever since his fever had appeared and invoked panic in Dean, the older sibling had forgone doing anything for himself and Sam was concerned. His brother looked exhausted, scruffy, and in definite need of a bath.

After checking with Sam to be sure that he was fine and getting assurances from the hospital staff that Sam was completely out of danger, Dean finaly relaxed enought to give into his little brother's request, well, he took a five minute shower in Sam's hospital bathroom, at least.

oooOOOooo

Now that Sam was considered out of danger, he was allowed to have visitors and Bobby and Joshua took full advantage of the privilege, stopping by often to see Sam while he was recovering. When the two weren't grouching at each other over their individual personality quirks, having bunked in close quarters at a local motel to ride out the wait for Sam to be cleared for visitors, the four were able to enjoy some good 'hunting' story telling. Gales of laughter could often be heard clear down the hallway and the four of them were often shushed by the hospital staff...

"So there I was, crouching in a damn pricker bush, I swear the needles were at least six inches long…" Joshua explained holding his pointer fingers apart almost twelve inches.

"Bullshit! No pricker bush has needles that long," Bobby corrected the exaggerating hunter thinking his story was more of a fish story than a hunting one.

Joshua looked over at Bobby. "Now how the hell would you know? You weren't there!"

"I'm not sure you were either," Bobby groused, doubting the tale being spun was anything less than a tall one.

Sam raised his eyebrows and looked over at Dean amused that the two hunters could even find something to bicker about in the midst of Joshua's story.

Dean smiled at Sam, grateful neither of the two men were related to him in any way. He considered himself lucky that he had Sam as his brother.

Joshua frowned, shot an annoyed glance to Bobby, and continued.

"So there I was in a GIANTpricker bush, stiff as a board from waiting out in the cold the whole damn night, when I hear a low growl directly behind me….I turn around, shot gun in hand, and find myself staring into the fangs of a freakin bearwolf just as she readies to attack!"

"You're so full of it! There's no such thing as a bearwolf!" Bobby hissed half annoyed and half laughing.

"You just gotta suck the life out of my story, don't you," Joshua grumped.

"I've seen scarier stories on reruns of Scooby Doo," Bobby muttered as he turned to smile at Sam and Dean feeling proud of his insult.

"You watch Scooby Doo?" the three hunters asked incredulously before bursting out in laughter. Moments later they were shushed by the head nurse of the floor.

Bobby blushed. "I used to okay? ...When I was a kid," he clarified trying to save face. "And it was a hell of a lot more believable than some dumb story about a wolfbear."

"Bearwolf," Joshua corrected with a glint in his eyes as he looked to Sam and winked finally acknowledging he'd been pulling Bobby's chain all along.

Sam smiled back.

Dean watched the exchange between his brother and the normally calloused hunter and was pleased.

Sam couldn't help but notice, along with Dean, that Joshua was relating differently to him. There was no pity in his eyes, there was no correction or disapproval in his tone. The older hunter related to Sam as if he were Dean and maybe even with a little more respect.

Sam wasn't quite sure why there had been such a dramatic change in the hunter, but he found himself feeling comfortable around the guy and for the first time in his life, he even enjoyed his gruff sense of humor now that it wasn't aimed in his direction all the time.

oooOOOooo

Nearly two weeks after Sam's near drowning, the doctor finally declared that his lungs were fully functioning and agreed to sign for his release. Other than to watch for infection, the doctor had cleared the youngest Winchester of any danger or concerns.

While all of Sam's internal stitches were dissolvable, the outer ones weren't, so the medical professional instructed Sam to return in a week to get his stitches out. Both he and Dean knew, when they thanked the doctor for all of his help, that they would not be coming back.

After many questions and reassurances that Sam was perfectly okay to be taken home, Dean began making preparations. He gathered all of Sam's get well gifts that had accumulated, the antibiotics he would need to continue taking for the next fourteen days, and requested pain medication for Sam to have until his back was more comfortable.

When Sam overheard Dean's request for pain medication, he immediately objected.

"Dean, no. No sedatives, you promised," Sam stated flatly, though his tone was more of a vulnerable plea.

"I'm not asking for sedatives, Sam," Dean responded firmly, "just something to help with the pain. You're hurting like hell already. Even I can see that. It's one thing to suffer in bed, but we're going to have to move you a lot to get you home. You need something to take the edge off that's stronger than the over the counter crap we have back at the apartment."

"I don't want help with the pain," Sam declared adamantly. His eyes were filled with emotional pain and fear.

"I understand how you feel, Sam," Dean tried to sympathize, " I do, but..."

"Do you? Do you really?!" Sam interrupted. "Cuz if you did? We wouldn't even be having this conversation."

Dean squinted his eyes, cocked his head, and looked at Sam, surprised by his belligerence.

"The past three months I've had all kinds of shit done to me, Dean, and I couldn't do anything to stop it!"

"I won't…," Sam paused as his anger melted and tears stung in his eyes, "I can't….," Sam swallowed hard. "I'm afraid to…"

Dean put his hand gently on Sam's shoulder and nodded. He did understand. Sam had been robbed of any sense of control for months. His little brother couldn't bear to relinquish what little control he had gained back even to help himself. It would be far more painful to do so than suffer the physical pain of his injuries.

Dean bit his lip. He couldn't stand the fear in his brother's eyes. "Okay," he whispered as a tear ran down Sam's cheek. "It's okay. No pain pills. Alright?"

Sam didn't respond, instead he just looked down and fiddled with his blankets.

Dean lowered his head to his brother's level and looked him in the eye. "I swear," he repeated as he raised his eyebrows and nodded provoking his little brother to accept his word as his oath.

Sam sniffed and nodded.

"I mean it, okay?"

Sam nodded again and wiped his cheek. "I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered out.

"For what?" the older sibling asked amazed that his little brother was apologizing.

"For being so screwed up," Sam whispered out as he rubbed the flat of his hand up and down on his forehead.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Sam. Don't you ever think this is your problem or that you're screwed up," Dean commanded in a father-like tone. "You have every reason to feel the way you do."

Sam didn't say anything.

"I mean it,Sam," Dean restated.

Sam nodded. The corners of his lips curled slightly upward. It felt so good to hear from Dean, who was not one to justify fear, but rather to deny it, that he was justified to be afraid….in the almost paralyzed kind of way. Their father had always taught them to master their fears and face them head on, to use them to motivate, to become alert, and to gain strength from them, but Sam wasn't able to do that and his father's voice, locked in his memory, condemned him for it. It was a tremendous relief to be absolved of his dad's judgment by Dean.

Dean took a deep breath as he wondered how the hell he would be able to watch Sam suffer and not be able to give him anything to ease his pain. Tylenol, which was probably the only thing Sam would allow, was a drip in the bucket of what the kid really needed. It had been hard enough in the hospital to watch the kid clench his teeth in pain and Sam was basically immobile. What lay ahead would be way more painful. Dean sighed and determined he would figure a way to help Sam through it if that was what his little brother wanted.

Relieved that his brother understood, Sam's attention turned to the gathering of his Get Well gifts.

"You forgot the inflatable inner tube from Joshua," Sam reminded his sibling with the roll of his eyes. His mind flashed to the endless ribbing he'd gotten from the man about his swimming skills or lack there of. Truth be told, Sam would admit that the guy really did have a sense of humor.

Dean smiled as he made his way across the room, popped open the plastic plug and squeezed the valve stem to make the air release from the circular red and white plastic tube with a disgusting sound.

Sam shook his head and smiled, amused by his brother's crass sense of humor.

oooOOOooo

Having gathered up Sam's belongings and helped his brother get dressed in fresh clothes, which was an extremely painful and difficult task to accomplish, Dean re-seated Sam on the bed and the two waited for the official papers and Sam's escort downstairs.

As they did, Bobby and Joshua showed up for their daily visit. The two were pleased to hear of Sam's release and decided to keep the Winchester boys company while they waited. Within minutes they began their routine of ribbing, story telling, and bickering.

Though Joshua participated along with the others, Sam couldn't help but notice he was reserved. Sam eyed the hunter trying to figure out what might be the cause, but he was unable to read the man despite his best efforts.

One of the reasons the hunter was difficult to read was because he had mixed emotions about the coming change. He was feeling good that Sam was better and no longer in any danger, but somewhat saddened that his work was done, his purpose for being there was over and he knew he would soon be moving on. He'd grown attached to the group of hunters he'd been hanging with and it was going to be hard to part with them. Without his knowing it, a small brick wall had begun to develop between himself and those who stood before him.

It was that wall that Sam detected, though its reason for being constructed remained a mystery to him.

Out of the blue, Joshua stood up.

Dean and Bobby looked up at the suddenly vertical man with raised eyebrows half expecting the man to begin another interesting hunting story in pantomime.

Sam was surprised by Joshua's sudden upright position as well, but not by what came after.

"So, guess this is it, huh?" Joshua muttered to the surprised group of bruised hunters before him.

Bobby recognized the hunter's plan to distance himself. "Doesn't have to be. Why don't you come back to the apartment with us for a couple of days. I'm sure you have more 'wolfbear' stories to tell," he added amusingly.

Joshua snorted. "No, I got a job I need to get started on," he added unconvincingly.

"What is it?" Bobby questioned, doubting the hunter even had one in mind.

"A JOB," Joshua repeated making it obvious he had no intention of explaining further, not that he could.

Sam watched as Joshua's wall began to grow layer by layer as the hunter tried to cope with the sense of loss he was feeling. The older hunter was slowly taking up a position behind it.

Bobby nodded knowingly.

Joshua turned to Dean. "You be cool, man. Stay away from hand grenades and don't spend too much time with Bobby. He'll turn you into a girl," he added with a half smile.

"Hey!" Bobby growled.

Dean laughed and offered the hunter a handshake. "Thanks, man, for everything. Me and Sam, well, we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," Dean added gratefully.

Joshua shrugged and brushed the appreciation aside. He slowly turned to Sam and looked the youngest Winchester in the eyes. He couldn't help but feel as if Sam was looking straight through him beyond his newly building wall.

"I don't know what to say, kid," Joshua began softly.

Sam cocked his head unsure what the hunter was about to say, whether the guy would add another layer of bricks and toss a rock over the wall at him, or remove a few and connect the way he had been.

"You're…" The hunter hesitated. "Well….let's just say," the hunter shifted nervously, "I mean…..I guess I pegged you wrong," the hunter finally admitted awkwardly.

Dean and Bobby tried to keep their jaws from dropping as their eyes darted back and forth between Joshua and Sam.

Sam smiled, pleased the hunter had opted to remove a brick or two rather than lob a boulder. "I'm just hard to figure out, is all," he offered humbly taking the blame for all the misunderstandings that had taken place over the years.

Joshua smiled, now understanding Sam's humbleness as a strength and not a weakness. He appreciated the kid exercising that strength by letting him off the hook.

He stood before Sam for a moment and nodded pensively. Not wanting to let Sam take the fall for his error, he added, "Actually, you're a hell of a lot easier to understand than you think." Another set of bricks had crumbled to the ground.

Sam extended his hand to the large framed hunter whose exterior seemed to have softened with the change in his heart.

Joshua grasped it firmly and yet shook it gently, being sure not to jostle Sam's back. "You be good. Don't go jumpin into bays without a life preserver," he gruffed.

Sam smiled. "I'll try to remember that," he replied warmly.

Joshua nodded twice and moved to the doorway. He glanced around at the men before him and found himself moved with emotion wanting to say more, but daring not do.

"Aw, hell….I'll see you bitches later."

With that the hunter slapped the doorway and walked off.

"He's charming, isn't he?" Bobby mused almost affectionately.

"More than he used to be," Dean added, pleased as hell the guy was finally able to see Sam for who he really is.

Bobby nodded. He'd definitely seen the old hunter soften since he'd been with the Winchester brothers and he found it amusing that the brothers had had the same affect on him as well.

"You need any help getting Sam home?" the older hunter finally asked Dean as he jumped into the 'Sammy Well Being Business' mode he and Dean were used to communicating in.

"No, thanks, I think we're good," Dean assured with a smile.

"Uh, guys? I'm right here. You know you can talk _to_ me instead of _about_ me…" Sam suggested feeling like he wanted to be seen as an equal instead of the invalid he had been for so long.

Bobby and Dean were so used to playing the role of Sam's personal care staff, the two had no idea what the kid was talking about.

Sam began a mock conversation when it was clear the two had no clue what he was talking about.

"Hey, Sam?" the young Winchester asked himself in a gruff voice trying to imitate Bobby's.

"Yes, Bobby," Sam answered in his usual, agreeable tone.

"Do you need help getting home, Sam?" the young Winchester gruffed out again in Bobby's imitated tone. His words were dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, Bobby. Thanks," Sam answered as his overly pleasant self. "I think Dean and I could definitely use the extra help."

Sam finished with a smile and raised his eyebrows waiting for the two before him to finally get his point.

Dean and Bobby stared at the young patient with raised eyebrows. Dean squinted his eyes and moved his hand up to his chin, rubbing it with his thumb and pointer finger like he was attempting to make a prognosis.

"He's lost it," Dean diagnosed.

"Definitely," Bobby playfully agreed.

"I think the psych ward is up on the third floor, isn't it?" Dean continued. "You want to take him or should I?" he added.

Sam tilted his head, rolled his eyes, and frowned wondering if his message had been completely lost on the two hunters or if they were just jerking him around.

Both men smiled and the three shared a laugh.

Sam's point was received by at least one of the hunter's before him.

"So, Sam…..," Bobby began trying to honor Sam's reasonable request to be addressed directly. " Do you need any help getting home?" he finished figuring the reason Sam had initiated this whole thing was because he had a different answer than Dean.

Sam smiled broadly. "No," he answered. "I think Dean and I can handle it."

Bobby just stared at him and shook his head. Now the _little _Winchester was turning into a smart ass. He glanced back at Dean planning to hold him accountable.

Dean simply shrugged as he splashed on an innocent face acting as if he had no idea where his kid brother got his attitude.

"Well, now that we figured all _that _out," Bobby muttered sarcastically, " I guess, I should get going. I'll stop for groceries and meet you boys back at the apartment," the hunter explained as he headed to the door. "If you think of anything you want..." Bobby turned to look at Sam, "candy, gum or cake…. Just call me on my cell," he finished with a wink.

Sam opened his mouth to place his order. Dean quickly covered it. "He's in training. No junk!" he ordered to the departing huntsman and grocery shopper.

Sam turned his head to escape his brother's hand and grabbed his wrist. "I'm not in training until my stitches are out!"

"Like hell you aren't. You start now by eating right," Dean ordered.

"Dean, at least gummy worms?" Sam pleaded whipping out his sad eyes to manipulate his older brother.

Dean shook his head refusing to allow himself to fall for Sam's well tuned technique of getting his way.

"C'mon! You know it's mood food for me, man," Sam pleaded again with his big round eyes.

"Mood food? Did you just say mood food?" Dean asked in a high pitched, disbelieving way.

Sam frowned at his brother's chiding.

"Well, your _mood_ seems fine to me, a bit annoying, slightly irritating, completely frustrating, but fine to me."

Sam frowned as he realized Bobby was now beyond his voice's reach. He determined to use his cell later while Dean was preoccupied with paper work and getting the car, to place his confectionary requests.

oooOOOooo

Dean went to get the Impala while Sam was escorted, wheelchair style, by a perky young nurse to the front entrance of the hospital. She seemed completely unaware of the effects her hyper movements were having on Sam's damaged body. He found the movement and pressure on his back painful and sobering, but not wanting to complain and possibly remove the bounce from her step, he said nothing.

She deposited him by the curb, smiled cheerfully, and forgetting that she was supposed to remain with her patient until he was picked up, bounced her way back leaving the near helpless Winchester completely on his own. It was a place Sam was just not ready to be. He felt vulnerable and alone.

As Dean pulled up, he was surprised to see Sam waiting by himself.

As soon as the car had stopped, Sam struggled to rise, but his muscles in his back were uncooperative and painful.

Dean quickly hopped out of the car and ran around to the passenger side to assist his little brother.

"Where the hell is the nurse?" Dean questioned with annoyance in his voice as he approached his struggling sibling." She leave you out here by yourself?!" Dean asked with sympathy. He glanced around hoping to see her and give him a piece of his mind. Of course she was long gone.

Sam just wanted to get into the car and didn't bother to answer.

After easing his little brother into the seat, he closed the door, returned to the driver's side and quickly slid in behind the wheel.

He glanced over to Sam and couldn't help but notice a change in his demeanor from the playfulness that had been there earlier. Dean eyed Sam suspiciously.

"Ready, Sammy," Dean asked his younger brother feeling like this was a new beginning for the two of them and wanting to mark it as such, hoping it might lighten Sam's mood a bit.

"Yeah," Sam gently spoke in barely whisper.

Dean wasn't sure if Sam's answer was more of a wish than a statement.

Sam laid his head back against the headrest and sighed. It was painful to be in the car and the "new start" he was beginning was going to involve more healing, more pain, and lots of time. Sam needed more of a sense of closure to this whole ordeal before he could feel like he was getting a fresh start.

"You okay, little brother?" Dean questioned somewhat concerned.

Sam turned his head in Dean's directions, blinked and took a deep breath. "Yeah"

Dean knew by his tone, Sam's answers were guarded.

"Tired?"

"Not really," Sam answered pensively.

"Sore?"

Sam gave a whispered laugh and looked at Dean with his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, okay, dumb question," Dean voiced for him as he keyed the ignition and revved the engine. He checked for traffic in his side mirror and then gently eased out onto the street trying to accelerate slowly so as not to force his brother's back against the seat any more than necessary.

Though Dean's acceleration was gentle, it still pained the damaged Winchester and he leaned forward in his seat to try and put some space between his upper back and the leather behind him.

While the new position relieved the pressure on his upper back, the added pressure on his lower back was close to intolerable. Of the two, his upper back was most damaged as it took the full impact of the Cat and the injuries that went to bone, so it made sense to keep it from touching, but the additional pressure on the lower seemed to make the position worse than when he had just rested his entire back on the leather seat. Sam decided to try inching forward and sitting straight up with his back completely off the seat in the hopes that it might get him through to the apartment with the least amount of discomfort.

Dean glanced over and frowned. He got that Sam had refused stronger pain pills not wanting to be groggy or lose his sense of control. He'd had enough of that the past few months. But he wished his younger brother had chosen a different way to exercise control as it pained him to watch Sam suffer and struggle to find a comfortable position.

The doctor said that the pain of his back injuries were at their peak and would be subsiding soon. He'd wished the hospital had kept his little brother two more days so that he wouldn't have to move him while he was in the worst of it . Course, Sam was ready to leave the day his fever broke, so Dean knew he wouldn't have stayed longer anyways.

The Impala entered the highway and began heading towards the apartment. Dean and Bobby had wanted to switch apartments for Sam's sake so that he would feel like it was a new start and not have any left over memories of what had happened especially since Bracken had hurt Dean and taken Sam there, but Sam had asked them not to. It was familiar and oddly enough, for Sam, he considered it home. The memories there were of he and Dean talking, laughing, and growing closer and it wasn't something he wanted to get away from. If anything, he needed it. Bobby and Dean obliged and kept the same apartment and Sam had looked forward to returning to it.

Sam remained quiet as his body moved with the motion of the car, not having the seat to keep him still. He was using the armrest on the door and his left hand on the seat beside him to brace himself as best he could, but using his back muscles to balance him was almost worse than the pressure of the seat behind him and he eventually allowed himself to lean back against the seat, figuring the full pressure was better than everything else he'd tried. As he did so a gasp escaped his lips and his face screwed up in pain.

Dean frowned as he watched Sam struggle to find a position he could tolerate.

"Sorry man, I wish there was a better way to get you home. Should have hijacked an ambulance, huh?" he added with a crooked smile trying to humor his quiet sibling. Dean glanced over to see if he had been successful.

Sam barely smiled and didn't comment back the way he usually would.

Dean glanced over at Sam suspiciously.

"I can pull over. You can stretch out in the back. You know, facing the seat, keep the pressure off your back?" Dean offered wanting to do something to help.

"Nah," Sam said as his eyes read the green highway sign. At most, he figured they had about twenty minutes left and he preferred staying where he was than trying to move to the back.

He laid his head on the headrest and closed his eyes.

Dean figured the kid was tired, had to be, hell he was tired himself and not just physically. He was tired of seeing his brother suffer and have to recover. Always seemed like whenever things got to a place where the end of Sam's pain was visible, the kid was thrown back into hell only to suffer and attempt to recover again. There were Jake's atrocities, Gordon's torment, Tommy's cruelties, and now Derek and Bracken. Now that the lynching party was finished, once and for all, Dean looked forward to his little brother's full and uninterrupted recovery. He only hoped Sam was looking forward and not back, as well.

The two rode in silence. Sam was quiet and deep in thought. Dean was quiet, trying to give Sam a chance to fall asleep. The older sibling kept the radio off to help, but he could tell by his brother's breathing, having studied it for the past three months, that though Sam's eyes remained closed, he was definitely awake. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe Sam was lost looking back.

"You okay?" he asked finally breaking the silence.

Sam opened his eyes and rolled his head in his brother's direction.

"Yeah"

"Can't sleep?"

"Not really trying"

"What's up?" Dean questioned concerned about his brother's quiet mood.

"It's over, right? I mean, this time it's really over," Sam finally spoke in his still raspy, but audible voice. Ever since he'd left the hospital, the increased pain and being left outside in the open, alone, left Sam feeling vulnerable again.

Although it sounded like a statement, Dean could tell that Sam wanted confirmation.

"S'right, no more loose ends," Dean assured.

"What if there's another hunter out there that we missed?" Sam questioned in a soft vulnerable voice as turned away and stared blankly out the window.

Dean nodded, completely understanding Sam's concern, hell, he'd gone over it himself several times to be sure. He began to verbalize his thinking.

"Well, we know everyone from Jake's crew is dead, right? Derek was the only one left."

Sam turned to Dean and nodded.

"And we know the only one Derek recruited was Bracken and he's gone," Dean added as he looked at his little brother to see if he was following.

Sam nodded again.

"Well, that wraps it up in my book," he concluded as he eyed Sam for a response and then glanced in his rearview mirror to check for traffic before changing lanes.

"Yeah, I guess it does," Sam surmised as Bracken's death still played a bit heavy on his heart.

Dean detected a hint of sadness or was it regret.

"You had no choice about Bracken. You know that, right?" Dean counseled firmly wanting to be sure Sam carried no guilt for shooting the sick, sadistic hunter.

"Yeah,"

"I mean, hell, you almost died trying to save the guy. It wasn't murder, Sam."

"I know that," Sam answered and then he looked at Dean. He realized his brother was interpreting his sadness at the death of another hunter as regret that he had killed him.

Dean sensed Sam's gaze and looked over to him.

"And I'd do it again, if it would save your life," Sam stated with a gentle smile. His eyes communicated more than his words. Dean was his brother and there was nothing he wouldn't do for him.

"Thanks…. you know, for that," Dean answered awkwardly, not being really good at admitting he needed saving by his little brother and at such a high cost. He was the protector and had spent his life trying to keep Sam safe from ever having to take a human life. He had thought that the burden would have been too heavy for his little brother to carry. It was a relief to know that Sam was not drowning in guilt over taking Bracken's life, though he was surprised he had come to terms with it so easily.

Sam smiled and nodded his head, feeling lighter after going over the fact that there were no remaining hunters to fear and that he had saved Dean for a change. Lately, it seemed as if his big brother was always saving him and while he loved his brother for doing it, he longed to join Dean as an equal at his side, pulling his own weight rather than having to be carried all the time. It felt good to have saved Dean.

The two brothers rode for a bit and enjoyed the feel of the road beneath them and the familiar presence of each other in the Impala. Sam's mind wandered back to a childhood memory, one he couldn't resist bringing back to Dean's mind.

"Are we there yet?" Sam asked with a subtle smile, knowing full well the question used to drive Dean nuts when they were kids. Sam would ask every five minutes when he and Dean were on a hunting trip with their dad traveling for hours in the back of the Impala. Sammy usually got pinned to the back seat for it, but it was one of the only ways he could get to Dean and always pulled it out when he was bored.

Dean threw his head back and laughed, glad to see Sam's humor return. "Don't think cuz you have railroad tracks up and down your back that I won't pin you ass to the seat, wise guy."

Sam snorted. "Sure, maybe now, but in a few weeks after I finish my physical therapy with Dr. Kickass, I dare you to try."

Dean smiled and glanced over to Sam. He was glad to hear Sam talking about the future, his recovery, and his return to strength and he was pretty sure, given the kid's size, he might actually have the advantage. Dean calculated it might be risky, but it was one chance he was willing to take.

"You got it," Dean stated boldly accepting the challenge. "Let me know when you're ready," he added arrogantly.

"Give me about……" Sam paused trying to figure out when he'd be up to the task.

"Twenty years?" Dean teased as he floored it.

"Jerk"

"Geek"

"Geek?" Sam questioned wondering why the heck Dean hadn't responded the way he always did.

"Geek," Dean reiterated confidently.

"What happened to Bitch?"Sam questioned, amazed that his brother had changed their routine of over eighteen years.

Dean looked over to his little brother and smiled like the cat that just ate a canary. Sam looked at him suspiciously.

"Didn't need to say it. I knew you'd say it for me," Dean smoothly answered with a wink and his classic crooked smile.

Sam rolled his eyes and the two smiled. It felt good to be brothers back together again in the Impala.

oooOOOooo

A few miles later, the boys arrived back at the apartment. Dean assisted Sam out of the car and up the stairs to their not so temporary home.

The place felt familiar and they were both glad to be back, though Sam was surprised when his mind flashed on Bracken's face when he entered through the doors.

As he and Dean were making their way over to the sofa, Sam suddenly paused. He pictured Dean's body splayed on the floor under the cruel hunter's knee, his weapon caressing Dean's temple as he spat threatening words of death. Sam could still remember his heart thumping in his chest as he knew his brother's life was being threatened because of him. Sam cringed, closed his eyes and shook his head. Fortunately, the image disappeared when he opened his eyes.

Dean sensed Sam's hesitation, though he didn't catch his expression and assumed his brother was tiring.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam answered nervously.

Dean eyed his little brother for a minute.

Sam detected the scrutiny and forced a smile and began moving once again towards the sofa.

Dean helped Sam the rest of the way and eased him down so he could lay on his side. He grabbed two pillows from the bedroom, placed one beneath Sam's head the other between his brother's arms to help keep his back straight, then took a seat near him in Bobby's favorite chair near the door and turned on the TV.

A flood of memories suddenly washed over Dean's mind and he decided a little brotherly fun was in order to celebrate Sam's homecoming.

"What's on?"Sam questioned curiously thinking that Dean had a specific show in mind to watch.

"Dunno" Dean answered honestly as the two watched a few minutes of commercials waiting to see what was being shown. As soon as the show returned, Dean flipped the channel.

A black and white picture of a squadron of airplanes flashed across the screen and an announcer began giving an historical account of a famous military attack. Sam shifted trying to get a better angle to watch as he was enthralled with the early US military attack planes. Just as the announcer was about to name the war, the picture disappeared and was replaced by a heavily accented man with a chef's hat.

Sam frustratingly looked at Dean, annoyed that he had flipped the channel right at the good part.

Trying to be patient with his brother and not take issue, he decided not to say anything.

The two watched the new channel for a minute as the enthusiastic man chopped his onions and tomatoes. "I'm hungry," Sam mentioned when the camera moved in on a pan of frying chicken smothered in lots of spices. "You think Bobby could cook us up something like that if we tell him how the guy did it?"

"Dunno," Dean answered again.

"Maybe we should write this down," Sam suggested.

Dean turned to look at his little brother, raised his eyebrows, and then smiled.

Sam saw his finger whiten on the remote button.

Flip

Sam frowned and considered throwing his pillow at his brother, then decided not to when he considered it would hurt him more than it would Dean. His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of the Jeopardy buzzer. He quickly turned to look at the screen.

"This is good," Sam commented letting his brother know he liked Jeopardy. Sam began racing the contestants with his answers and looked at Dean every time as he got each one of them right well before the participants.

Dean rolled his eyes. "What a geek," Dean called out.

Before Sam could speak, Dean flipped the channel.

"Hey, I was watching that," Sam complained growing tired of his brother's supposed short attention span.

"Yeah, I know," Dean answered playfully as he counted out two minutes until his next flip. He had it down to an artwork. It took less than a minute for Sam to engage in a channel. He'd then tease him with the enjoyment of it for another minute and then, he'd flip the channel.

Sam could tell by his brother's grin, that Dean was playing him. Sure enough, just as he began getting the mathematics of the diagram the engineer was explaining, the channel jumped.

"Dean," Sam complained.

Dean smiled, but didn't respond. He just sat quietly counting waiting for his little brother to engage in the show.

Sam, refusing to give his brother the satisfaction of harassing him, decided the only way to foil his brother's childish game was to not show any interest in the new channel at all nor to react to his flipping.

Dean noted Sam was no longer playing along and decided to quicken the pace a bit hoping to get a response from his calculating sibling.

Flip

Sam remained quiet. He could ride Dean out.

Flip

Sam still said nothing, just stared blankly at the screen.

Flip, flip... flip, flip, flip, flip.

"Dean!"

Flip

"What?" Dean asked pretending he had no clue as to why his brother was so upset.

"Would you knock it off?" Sam hated himself for caving, but he couldn't help but react.

"What?"

"Channel surfing. You're driving me nuts."

Flip…Flip Dean smiled teasingly at Sam. Flip, flip, flip

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean paused for a moment at a rerun of The Simpsons.

"No, not the Simpsons. Anything but the Simpsons," Sam begged.

"You just asked me to stop flipping, Sammy. Now make up your mind," Dean teased childishly.

"You're impossible"

"You want me to flip or not?"

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yesssss" he begrudgingly answered.

Dean smiled and flipped the channel.

Sam attempted to try the new one. It had to be better than The Simpsons.

Seconds later the channel jumped again.

"Deeeean!"

Flip

"Dean, c'mon man," Sam begged.

Flip, flip, flip

"DEAN!"

"Geez, Sammy, don't get yourself all worked up. You might pop a stitch. Now I know you have some control issues, but you need to learn to share."

Sam looked at Dean with his jaw straight down and his eyebrows raised.

"**I **have control issues?!!! You think _I_ have control issues!!!! You're the one with the flipper."

"S'right, Sammy, so I get to choose the channel and when we flip," Dean announced proudly.

"Since when?"

"Since I was born first."

"Oh, no you don't. This I'm older crap doesn't work."

"Well you are welcome to come over here and prove that it doesn't," Dean challenged waving the remote around like a flag as he flipped the channel twice staring Sam in the eyes without even looking at the TV.

Sam looked disgustedly at Dean. His older brother smiled and flipped the channel again.

"I should have been born first," Sam grumbled.

"Maybe. But you weren't so…."

Flip…..

The sound of the lock being keyed interrupted the boys TV channel negotiations, if you could call them that, much to Sam's relief. Seconds later, Bobby kicked the door open carrying four bags of groceries in his arms. He made a run to the kitchen counter to relieve his burden before it dropped onto the floor.

Dean turned around and laughed at the comic scene of Bobby juggling the four paper bags trying to keep them from dropping as he danced his way to the kitchen.

"Geez, what'd you do? Rob a grocery store?" Dean quipped.

"No, wise guy, I put it on _your_ tab," Bobby quipped.

Dean half smiled not really feeling like his joke had gone the way he had hoped.

"Now get off your ass and help me with the rest of the bags," the huntsman corrected in a father-like manner.

Dean smiled, rolled his eyes for dramatic effect, and darted out the door to grab the bags that remained in the back of Bobby's truck.

Bobby whistled as soon as Dean disappeared and Sam turned to see what was up. The old family friend's face curled up into a smile as he reached into one of the bags and pulled out a oversized package of gummy worms.

Sam's face mirrored the Cheshire Cat grin Bobby was sporting and gave a thumbs up.

Seconds later, Dean popped through the door toting four more grocery bags. Bobby quickly tossed the tasty treat into the drawer under counter to hide it. Sam laughed and Bobby looked innocently over at Dean, eyebrows raised with an artificial grin.

"What?" Dean questioned feeling like he had missed something.

"Nothing," Bobby answered as he looked over to Sam with a twinkle in his eyes.

Dean turned to look at his brother.

Sam immediately wiped the smile from his face and splashed an innocent look as well.

Dean eyed his little brother suspiciously and then looked back to Bobby who was now busy unloading the groceries. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped the bags on the counter, then returned to get the last two.

As soon as he left, Bobby opened the drawer, grabbed the package of multi colored, sugar coated gummy worms and tossed it to Sam.

Mid air, Dean poked his head back through the doorway, took in the flying package and glared at the underhanded hunter. The package dropped in Sam's lap and he clenched his teeth and smiled guiltily. Bobby acted like he had no idea where the air born product had come from.

"I knew it," Dean commented. "If he's wired from all that sugar, you're babysitting!" Dean hissed before he took off to get the other bags. Sam on sugar was no different than Sam on alcohol and Dean just didn't have it in him to listen to his brother sing karaoke style for the rest of the day.

"Bobby," Sam whispered when his brother disappeared around the corner. "Can you get me the remote?"he asked as he pointed to Dean's chair. "It should be somewhere by his chair."

Bobby nodded and moved toward the rocking recliner. He searched the coffee table, end table, the chair, the seams along the sides and even under the darn thing, but the remote was no where to be seen.

Seconds later Dean returned with the last two bags. He paused at the door as he observed the hunter on his knees crawling around on the ugly shag carpet.

"Lose a contact, Bobby?" Dean questioned sarcastically as he moved over to deposit the last grocery bags onto the counter.

Bobby jumped up and looked wide eyed at Sam. Sam shook his head gesturing for the family friend not to admit his request.

"Ah, no, I was….uh…."

"Looking for this?" Dean mocked as he pulled the absconded remote from his pant's pocket. The oldest Winchester smiled at his little brother, aimed the controller at the TV and flipped the channel four more times.

Bobby looked apologetically at Sam and stood up.

Sam decided now was a good time for a nap and rolled onto his side, facing the back of the couch, and drifted off leaving Bobby to suffer the job of unloading the groceries while Dean flipped channels endlessly.

After about ten minutes, Dean turned the TV off. The fun of flipping was annoying Sam, and the sleeping sibling wasn't making the activity very rewarding.

oooOOOooo

The rest of the day was fairly quiet. Sam rested on the couch while Dean showered, shaved, washed some clothes, and harassed Bobby. The older hunter, tired of Dean's flipping, went out for part of the afternoon, rented a movie for after dinner, and made pasta for the boys.

By the time night rolled around, Sam was exhausted and opted to pass on the movie and go to bed. Dean helped Sam get ready for bed and helped him settle in comfortably on his side with a pillow between his arms. Sam snuggled his head down into the familiar pillow, closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. It felt good to be out of the hospital at home with Dean.

"Thanks, man," Sam spoke out softly.

Dean nodded but didn't reply. In his heart no thanks was needed or ever would be. He covered his brother with a blanket, turned out the light on the nightstand and took a seat on the bed across from him. He studied Sam's face for a bit as his eyes blinked slower and slower, then paused half closed and finally shut.

Dean smiled. God it felt good to know Sam was finally safe and going to be well soon. He lingered on the bed for a while just to be sure his brother was truly asleep and didn't need anything.

Once convinced, he rose and headed towards the door. He turned around in the doorway and looked one last time at his brother.

"Night, Sammy," he whispered, then grabbed the door knob and closed the over shellacked piece of wood quietly.

Bobby watched from his chair as Dean made his way back down the hallway towards the living room.

"S'he good?"

"Yeah," Dean answered with a peaceful smile as he flopped on the sofa, hands on his head, elbows out, to enjoy the movie.

Bobby flipped on the TV and pushed the play button. Both boys quickly became engrossed in the horror movie Bobby had chosen, more so to poke fun at it than anything else. They had both seen more horrifying things in their hunting lives than anything this movie could portray.

Half way through, Bobby paused the flick and he and Dean began raiding the kitchen. Dean went for the beers from the fridge, Bobby, the chips and dip. Both loaded up their spoils, smiled, and...

"NO! GOD NO! ...DEAN!" a terrified voice suddenly hollered out from Sam's bedroom practically rattling the walls and shattering the windows. "DEEEEEEEEAN!"

Dean and Bobby froze for a second as the blood in their bodies literally curdled at the sound of Sam's bone chilling cry. Bottles dropped and shattered; beer and salsa exploded everywhere. Both jumped into an adrenaline induced rush as they tore out of the kitchen, weapons drawn and rushed down the hallway desperate to answer Sam's blood curdling scream.

TBC


	29. Mountains and Miracles

**Chapter 29**

_Ominous darkness, bone-chilling cold_

_The icy fingers of a homicidal threat_

_A shared moment of truth_

_Eyes connect knowing... for one the end is near_

_An explosion_

_The smell of burned flesh _

_Scattered pieces of skin and bone_

_Blood spattered in nonsensical patterns on stoic walls_

…_oozing….dripping….pooling…._

_The sightless eyes of a murdered brother_

_A soul lost, another emptied_

"NO! GOD NO! DEAN!" Sam's terrified voice cried out from the bedroom, practically rattling the walls and shattering the windows. "DEEEEEEEEAN!"

Dean nearly ran over Bobby as the two hunters bolted frantically, weapons drawn, to answer Sam's blood curdling scream.

The anxious sibling jumped back, pulled his knee to his chest and kicked the door with all of his might. The flimsy wooden barrier between he and his brother broke open, swung back and slammed hard against the wall, knocking a faded picture off and sending it crashing to the floor.

Dean burst through, arms extended, weapon clasped tightly in both hands, finger whitening on the trigger, eyes desperately seeking out a target. He searched the bed where Sam sat bolt upright yelling, then swung around the room looking for the presence of an intruder.

Bobby came in behind him, weapon drawn and out in front, took up a position back to Dean and rotated as the younger hunter did.

"Bobby?" Dean anxiously questioned needing to know if the hunter had a target in sight.

"Clear. You?" the older hunter barked out in military fashion.

"Clear," Dean answered as his worried eyes fell on his brother's trembling frame.

Bobby immediately searched to closet just to be sure, but as he expected, it was empty.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned softly as he took in his younger sibling who now sat silent, trembling fiercely on the bed before him.

Sam's body glistened with fear induced sweat, his panicked eyes searching his brother's, begging to be reassured that he was alive and okay.

Dean lowered his piece and began walking slowly towards Sam so as not to startle him. He studied his brother's features trying to determine if he was awake or still trapped in his godless nightmare, whether the searching eyes were seeing or struggling to see, to make sense of the waking world around him.

Dean's uncertainty clarified when Sam put his head down and buried his face in his hands.

Bobby lowered his weapon and moved slowly to the end of the bed to see if Sam was alright.

Dean turned to the concerned hunter and nodded indicating that, though clearly distraught, Sam was safe.

Bobby nodded and then quietly moved to the doorway and slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him to offer the boys some privacy.

"Sammy?" Dean gently called again as he put on his safety and belted his .45 behind his back.

Sam's face remained buried in his hands and although Dean couldn't see the tears, his brother's hitched breathing indicated his was crying.

"Hey," Dean softly whispered as he took a seat close beside his anguished sibling and clasped his hands supportively around his little brother's trembling arms.

Sam remained silent and continued shaking.

Dean saw wet tears drop beneath his brother's hands and travel down his wrists and arms.

"Shhhh, It's okay, Sammy," the older sibling cooed as he attempted to lower his head to reach his brother's hidden gaze while maintaining his gentle hold. "It's alright. You're okay."

Sam suddenly leaned into Dean, clasped his older brother's shirt in his fisted hands and buried his face in his brother's chest.

Dean wrapped one arm around him , the other he slipped through his brother's hair and rested gently on the back of his head. He pulled him close and just held him.

Sam began to sob. Anguish poured out from him along with sorrowful tears.

Dean bit his lip as he attempted to hold back his own emotions in order to be there for Sam as he felt his brother sobbing against him. Sam had suffered too much for too long and now that there were no hunters left to torment him, Sam's unconscious mind was turning against him, torturing him in his sleep.

Dean closed his eyes and rested his chin on his brother's soft brown hair. A single silent tear managed to escape and found its way down the side of his empathetic cheek.

It was cruel how reality often played out in the unconscious mind, in some ways, even more torturously than life itself, because while life had been merciful to the brothers and not allowed the death of either, the unconscious dream world had been much less kind. Fear played out as if reality there and death came often and repeatedly.

Dean flashed back to his nightmare of Sam being executed in the motel by the sharpshooter. The imagine of himself lying helplessly wounded on the floor while he watched in horror as the nightmarish hunter pumped Sam's defenseless body full of rounds, his baby brother's body jerking on the bed, the blood fountain-ing upwards from Sam's destroyed frame…..

Dean felt sick and held his little brother more tightly as if needing to feel his life in his arms to be reassured it had only been a dream and erase the image that once again revisited his mind.

He didn't know what nightmare had besieged Sam, whether he had relived the brutalities he had suffered or the condemnation he had endured, but he knew it was more than his little brother could manage.

The brothers sat in silence until Sam's trembling slowed and then eventually ceased. The cascade of tears ended soon after. Dean remained unmoving, allowing his brother to take whatever care and comfort he needed.

Sam finally leaned away and began wiping the rivers of salty water from his face with his hands. His gaze remained downward as he tried to avoid eye contact.

Dean released his fatherly hold when Sam began to move away, but remained close by his side. He waited for a moment as his little brother sniffled and settled before finally breaking the silence that hung heavily between them.

"You okay?" he whispered as he watched Sam wipe away his left over tears.

Sam finally looked at Dean and nodded, but didn't say anything. Then he whispered an embarrassed laugh.

Dean's lips curled slightly upward in the corners when he heard his little brother's unexpected sound. "What?" he questioned gently.

Sam sniffed and offered a self-conscious smile.

"I feel like I'm a chubby twelve year old again, waking up screaming and crying from nightmares," Sam explained shyly as his breathing hiccupped, a left over from the deep distress he had recently released.

Dean recalled the fierce nightmares his brother used to have whenever he and his dad would return from a hunting trip when Sam had been left behind with Pastor Jim or Bobby. The kid feared that every time they left, they wouldn't be coming back... alive. When they finally returned, Sammy was visibly relieved, but his fears played out in nightmares for days afterward.

He remembered his father being impatient with Sam's nightmares. Dean figured his dad didn't mean to be calloused; it was more he couldn't accept that the hunting life was too much for Sammy and dealt with it by denying his little brother's pain. Dean found himself filling in for his father's lack of understanding and was always the one who helped calm Sam down and allay his fears. He often held his little brother for a while afterwards, when the nightmares continued on past his waking, just to help him stop crying and go back to sleep.

"You're a hell of a lot bigger now than you were back then," Dean softly teased hoping to get a smile out of his brother.

To Dean, it was a fond memory of a time when he could take away his brother's fears and help him return to a restful sleep, a time when Sam's troubles were, in a way, fixable. Dean couldn't help but wonder how he could help fix what had happened in a way that his brother could ever sleep peacefully again.

"Thanks," Sam muttered sarcastically with a slight smile. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Yeah, well, what can I say," Dean answered as he got up and walked into the bathroom to grab a hand towel for Sam.

Sam watched his brother intently, hoping he wasn't leaving quite yet.

Dean ran the small cloth under the cool facet and wrung it out. On his way back he tossed the soggy rag playfully at Sam. It landed on the side of Sam's face and shoulder with a soft shlopping sound and then dropped to the covers below.

Sam whispered a laugh, sniffed and nodded appreciatively as Dean took a seat near the end of his brother's bed. He cooled his face down and set the cloth on the edge of the nightstand where it dripped slowly onto the carpet below.

_drip_

"So what did you dream about?" Dean gently asked wanting to know which bastard had tormented his little brother in his sleep.

Sam's face grew suddenly serious and his eyes began to sting. Dean could tell the dream still haunted his little brother and was almost sorry he had brought it back up.

_drip_

"You," Sam finally whispered as the tears once again spilled down his cheek.

"What?" the older brother questioned, surprised by Sam's answer and disturbed that he had upset Sam so much in his sleep. He had assumed that when Sam cried out his name, his kid brother was asking him for help, not begging him to stop whatever he was doing that had been so terrorizing.

_drip_

Sam nodded and wiped away the tears. New ones quickly dampened the dry spots where the others had been removed.

"What the hell did I do?" Dean asked hating the nightmare version of himself for having caused his brother so much distress.

_drip_

Sam looked at Dean with deep, sorrowful eyes.

"You died," Sam whispered vulnerably and broken as more tears rained down his face and dripped onto the covers beneath his chin.

Dean searched his brother's hurting eyes and nodded compassionately. He knew all too well the pain Sam was communicating to him. He'd felt it so many times before when he'd almost lost Sam. It was a pain like no other, one that seared deep into the heart and emptied the soul.

It hurt to see Sam so broken and Dean wanted so much to alleviate his anguish.

Sam had been barely holding it together before Bracken and Derek. The only thing that had kept him going was Dean. When Sam though he'd lost his brother, what little was left of his resolve had vanished. Then life had mercifully returned Dean to him and even though reason reminded him of that very fact every time he felt the sting of the remembered loss, reason couldn't follow him into the unconscious world of sleep. In the quiet stillness of sleep, where reason relinquishes its hold on the mind allowing it to work out its fears unrestrained, Sam's greatest fear enjoyed its full reign, terrorizing the youngest Winchester mercilessly. And even though the dream had ended, the fears and emotions that existed there wafted into Sam's waking hours utterly devastating him and consuming his rational mind.

While Dean hated that he couldn't follow Sam into the dream world and alleviate his brother's suffering there, he could assuage the emotions that had followed his brother back out.

"Well, it was just a dream, okay?" Dean offered to comfort his distraught little brother. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere and I'm certainly not dying so you can put that nightmare to rest," he added, gently urging his brother to try.

Sam nodded. He knew he should be able to, but for some reason he couldn't. The image of his brother's body exploding into pieces remained firmly fixed in his mind.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned softly wanting to know if his message had been received and if it had eased his brother's pain.

"There's something I need to know, Dean," Sam softly replied in response to his brother's call for him to lay the nightmare to rest.

"Name it," Dean answered willing to help his brother in any way he could.

"Bracken," Sam began, his voice hitched at the mere mention of his name. "What did he do to you after I left," Sam whispered out searching Dean's eyes begging for him to understand the need behind the request and be willing to give him an answer.

Dean looked hesitantly at Sam trying to discern why his little brother had asked. Was it simply curiosity or did Sam really need to know. The last thing Sam needed was more fuel for his nightmares or something else to blame himself for and Dean was unsure exactly how to answer.

Sam noticed Dean's hesitation and attempted to coax a response from him.

"I know something bad happened or was supposed to happen. Bracken and Derek considered you dead."

Dean eyed Sam and hesitated again.

"Please, Dean. Not knowing…..," Sam hesitated and sniffed. "It's killing me."

Dean looked at Sam and nodded. Not knowing had nearly done him in when Sam disappeared when the Benders took him and when he left to go find the other 'children' and encountered Ava. Dean knew the pain of the imagination when your brother's life is endangered and he wanted to lay his brother's fears to rest in the hopes that in doing so, he might free Sam's unconscious mind of its troubles as well.

"After you left, he messed with me some, I passed out and woke up to Joshua," Dean explained leaving out the little detail of the grenade, figuring his brother didn't need that as fuel for his nightmares.

Sam nodded knowing full well Dean was holding back. He knew his older brother, sometimes even better than he knew himself. He jutted out his lower jaw and debated whether to push the matter. He figured Dean was holding back because he was protecting him, not because it was too painful to remember it.

"And?" Sam softly pressed on.

Dean raised his eyebrows and glanced away. He wanted to be honest with Sam, but not upset the kid.

"Joshua said stay away from grenades," Sam finally added with pleading eyes.

"You heard that, huh?"Dean asked awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.

"Yeah, I heard that," Sam answered back as he looked to Dean for an explanation.

Dean still hesitated.

When Dean remained quiet, Sam finally explained.

"In my nightmare," Sam swallowed hard, licked his lips and pressed on, "you got blown up, Dean."

Tears stung in Sam's eyes again as the image of Dean's chestless body and scattered limbs found purchase in his tortured mind.

Dean froze with his hand on the back of his neck. His eyes fixed on Sam's tearing eyes and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I guess I should have told you. I just figured you had enough to work through without adding to your pile."

"You can always add to my pile, Dean. I'm here for you, no matter what," Sam explained sincerely. " Please, don't ever keep something from me thinking you're protecting me, cuz you aren't. Your silence hurts way more than any truth ever could. I want things up front. Your pain is mine, Dean. If you went through something I want to know about it. The not knowing……" Sam paused, drew a breath, and shook his head.

Dean nodded. He understood what Sam was asking, but he had always been in the 'protect Sammy' business where game faces and masks were a part of every day life. He was the oldest. It was his job. To do anything less felt just plain wrong.

"I don't really work that way, Sammy. You know that."

"I think you do. I think you could. You just aren't used to allowing yourself is all," Sam explained with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, well, Dad was never one to allow it."

"Dad's not here. I am. And I want you to talk to me…. about anything, about everything, and stop worrying about whether I can handle it. Okay?"

Dean looked in Sam's eyes. Sam wanted, no he needed Dean to trust him, to be open with him. Sam was his best friend, the one, if anyone, he knew he could confide in. Sam's request for transparency was uncomfortable and yet for Sam…..

He nodded. "I'll try."

Sam saw Dean's try as a slight attempt to give it a shot and Sam wanted more.

"I mean it, Dean. We've been through way too much lately to be holding out on each other."

Sam was right. Since this whole lynching thing began, he and his brother had reached a whole new depth in their relationship. Sam had needed to rely on Dean for everything. Walls had been breached, barriers broken. Sam had literally been naked before his brother physically, when he'd been unable to care for himself, and emotionally, and the level of trust between the boys had changed dramatically. There had been no time for personal space, pride, or the promotion of images, there had be raw emotions and souls laid open.

In the process, Dean had developed tremendous respect for his little brother. Sam had survived the unthinkable, and shown a strength of character Dean had not thought humanly possible by anyone, let alone his sensitive, vulnerable baby brother. He needed to reconsider his "game face" impulse and relate to Sam as an equal. He would always be his younger brother, but he was strong and capable and deserved to be treated as such and not be related to as if fragile.

I hear ya," Dean repeated acknowledging his brother's call for openness, equalness, and trust.

Sam nodded and smiled, then waited for his brother to do it. When he didn't he initiated.

"So the grenade…."Sam began.

Dean finally complied.

"Bracken shoved me around a bit and then rigged me with a grenade, okay?" Dean finally confessed as quickly as he could hoping that in doing so it would be over and done without any ramifications for his little brother. " I was passed out, so I didn't even know about it until Joshua showed up and told me. He pinned the damn thing and untied me. End of story." Dean finished quickly, his big brother side instinctively down playing the situation.

Dean looked at Sam and waited, knowing the "s" word would soon be on its way.

Sam nodded, appreciative that Dean had told him. "Sorry, man," he whispered.

"Now see, that's why I hate to tell you. Cuz you always blame yourself. It wasn't your fault, Sam. It was Bracken's and all the other sons of bitches and their warped senses of 'saving the world'," Dean muttered, wondering if he'd made a mistake hopping on the 'everything up front' band wagon his brother was eager for him to be on.

"Actually, that wasn't the kind of sorry I meant. I know it's not my fault," Sam stated rationally.

"Damn straight it's not so quit being sorry," Dean grumbled still annoyed with and unsure of himself and wondering if he had made a mistake in disclosing the details and hurt his brother in the process.

"I meant I'm sorry it happened to you," Sam clarified with a sympathetic smile.

Dean paused and looked in awe at Sam's mature response, then quickly became embarrassed that his kid brother was offering him sympathy.

"Yeah, well it was no big deal. I'm here in one piece, Derek and Bracken are in hell where they belong, and this dream of yours…well, now that you know, hopefully you can end it a different way. Try having the grenade go off in Bracken's hands or in his pants pocket or hell even in the van before the bastards ever got to Bobby."

Sam smiled and nodded at Dean's suggestion that he could rewrite his dream before it turned into a nightmare. He was definitely going to give it a try if the nightmare ever dared to return again, though he was hopeful that, by knowing what really happened, it might remain a part of his past.

Dean smiled back at Sam glad to see the kid was amused. To his surprise, he saw his brother's face suddenly pale.

Sam was growing tired and found the position he was in to be too taxing on his back and his already weakened muscles. He realized almost too late that he lacked the strength to keep sitting any longer and as he began to shift, in the hopes that he could lay back down and find some relief, he suddenly felt a searing pain shoot through his back. Sam gasped and winced, then lost his ability to remain seated and began to fall back.

Dean quickly reached forward and caught his brother's shoulder just before he landed flat on his back.

"Easy," Dean coached as he attempted to turn his sibling so he would land on his side to avoid the bed making contact with his back.

Sam gasped a few times as he struggled to cooperate, but with Dean's help, he eventually was able to ease himself down on his side. His head once again sunk deep into his pillow and he finally relaxed.

Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"So how's the back. Does it still hurt?" Dean questioned with concern having wished he'd made his brother lie down sooner. Between the nightmare, the sitting, and the movement, he imagined it couldn't be feeling too well.

"No more than normal," Sam whispered out sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Let me take a look at you," Dean requested quietly as he moved in behind Sam.

Sam unbuttoned his shirt and with Dean's help, removed his left arm.

Dean pulled the fabric gently back exposing his brother's damaged back. He inspected the stitches and signed in relief. "Looks good, Sammy. Probably doesn't feel good, but it looks good."

Sam nodded. His brother got that right.

Dean gently wrapped the thin fabric around his brother's back and held the sleeve of his nightshirt out. Sam painfully struggled to slip his arm back inside and began buttoning it closed again. Within a minute, he was finished.

"You good?" Dean asked as he got up from behind his brother.

Sam nodded as his brother picked up a fallen pillow and tucked it between his arms.

Dean covered Sam's shoulders with the comforter, turned out the light, and took a seat on his own bed a few feet away to watch his brother until he fell back to sleep.

"You don't have to stay. I'm okay," Sam offered drowsily, then yawned.

"I'm not staying here for you. I'm…I'm…I'm thinking about redecorating the place," he said with a crooked smile.

Sam snorted.

"After all, we did lose the only decent picture we had in this fine establishment," Dean added as the tacky decoration still lay shattered on the floor behind the door. "Wonder what time housekeeping can come by," he teased referring to Bobby who was still making noises in the kitchen cleaning up the shattered bottles, beer, and salsa the two hunters had dropped when they first heard Sam's terrified cry for help.

Sam whispered a laugh and smiled. He hated to admit it, but his brother's presence was calming and he was grateful his sibling had chosen to stay with him.

Silence eventually reigned as Dean sat thinking through the conversation he and Sam had just had and Sam lay quiet trying to allow himself to doze off.

Though he was exhausted, whenever he closed his eyes the image of his brother dying in his arms flashed in his mind and the emptiness he had felt before at the thought of Dean being gone once again began to consume him.

Dean, having observed Sam's difficulty in falling asleep, waited patiently in hopes that the kid would either open up and talk if he needed to or eventually drift off.

A few minutes later, Sam opened his eyes and looked at his brother through slowly blinking lashes as his face lay snuggled in the pillow beneath his head. Though the room was dark, illuminated only by the hallway light, Sam could see his brother looking back at him.

Dean's eyes fixed on Sam's as he waited for his little brother's heart to spill.

"When Derek said he had killed you, and I thought that you were dead…It was like…." Sam paused and swallowed hard searching for words to describe the horrible feeling he had experienced back in the warehouse. He remembered losing hope and wanting to die. It was as if...

"The air was sucked out of your lungs and your soul had been ripped from you?" Dean finished softly.

Sam looked Dean in the eyes, amazed that Dean knew exactly how he'd felt, and he nodded.

"I've felt that way a lot lately, Sammy," Dean softly explained, his voice full of sympathy and understanding. He'd faced that empty soul feeling at the roadhouse, the hospital, the motel, the apartment, the warehouse and in the bay. It was a feeling he prayed to God he'd never have to experience again.

Sam's brow wrinkled in sympathy when he realized how much Dean had suffered the last three months.

"If anything had happened to you because of me…," Sam soulfully began, "I couldn't….I'd never be able…."

"Nothing happened to me, Sam, and nothing's gonna happen to me or to you for that matter. It's over, okay? …… It's over and I'm fine…….. as long as you are."

Dean's words hung in the air as if waiting to be received and answered. They were more of a question, an asking, a needing to know if Sam was alright so that Dean could be sure he himself was alright too.

Sam smiled and nodded to confirm that he was fine and Dean was too.

Dean nodded, then leaned forward and patted his little brother on the shoulder. "Now get some rest, kiddo. It's been a long day."

Sam nodded, nuzzled his head deeper into his pillow, and closed his eyes as Dean sat back down on the bed determined to see his little brother safely to the gates of sleep and wishing he could continue on. He only hoped Sam could rewrite the ending of his nightmare the next time it raised its ugly head.

Sam eventually drifted off.

Dean lingered a while longer, then eventually got up and moved to the doorway. He decided to leave the door open this time in case Sam should call and he joined Bobby to see the ending of the horror movie they had rented.

"He okay?" Bobby asked gently as Dean came down the hallway rubbing his hand along his jaw bone pensively.

"For now," Dean answered softly feeling uncertain of what lay ahead for his little brother's mind.

"Sam's strong, Dean, and he has you. You boys will be fine. Just give it time," Bobby coached kindly.

**oooOOOooo**

And time was something the boys had a lot of…..

The brothers settled down to a fairly regular routine over the next few weeks. Dean began working with Sam on his physical therapy, though they were a bit limited on what they could do with his back until the stitches were removed. Since Sam and Dean had so much extra time on their hands, the two set to trouble making, practical jokes and pranks many of which Bobby ended up receiving the brunt of, much to his dismay. Sam usually sided up with Bobby after feeling sorry for the guy and the two went after Dean who was quite capable of holding his own.

The TV wars raged on. Sam memorized the television schedule and removed the batteries from the remote whenever he wasn't using it in a bold attempt to sabotage Dean's obnoxious flipping. Dean hit up the local Radio Shack and bought a case of replacements. After several days of missing batteries, replaced batteries, and flipping, Dean was dismayed to discover the remote controller had mysteriously vanished altogether and though neither Sam nor Bobby fessed up, Dean always suspected Bobby to have been the culprit. Either way, Dean's days of tormenting Bobby and Sam soon ended…that is…. in regards to the TV, anyways.

Dean soon figured out he could bug the heck out of the two with the radio instead. Neither hunter was partial to Country and Western music, and although Dean could hardly stand the stuff himself with all its chick flick, broken heart whimperings, he found the stuff enjoyable simply for the irritating effects it had on his 'roommates'.

Sam, being constantly supplied by Bobby's underground gummy worm ring, rewarded each and every physical therapy accomplishment he made with one of the tasty treats. As he yowled along with Dean's musical choices, Dean grew suspicious of his brother's sugar highs and began searching daily for the wiggly, sugar coated demons. Having found packages stuffed under cushions, in drawers, and inside pillow cases, Dean purged the place and kept a constant vigil inspecting every bag of groceries Bobby dared to bring in the apartment every day after that.

Thanks to Bobby's cleverness, the oldest Winchester never thought to look in the freezer where Bobby had managed to hide the last package Dean had missed in his searching. Unfortunately, the frosty temperature changed the chewiness of the little creatures, and in the end, Sam's sugar highs were thwarted.

Sam continued his yodeling anyways just to annoy Dean since he'd been robbed of his confectionary treats by his brother's persistent searches. He tried to pick songs he knew Dean disliked and always began with a rousing rendition of Short People.

The weeks were a mix of fun, rest, talks and tears as Bobby tried to help Sam and Dean deal with all that had happened to them over the past three months.

Dean finally removed Sam's stitches, the last remaining visible evidence of what he'd suffered at Derek's hands….the physical trauma, the condemnation, and worst of all, the pain of thinking Dean was dead. The procedure seemed endless, but caused little discomfort. Dean was slow, methodical, and gentle and periodically offered his younger brother breaks.

Sam refused, wanting to get it over with all at once. For him, it marked another mile stone on the road that was allowing him to put the whole trial nightmare in his rearview mirror.

Unfortunately, though the physical evidence was easily removable, the emotional scars were harder to get rid of. While Sam's rational mind had dealt with his feelings of guilt, helplessness, powerlessness, and the hunters' cruel condemnations, his unconscious mind remained victim to them. Sam often woke up in cold sweats yelling he was sorry and begging those whom he loved that were lost to forgive him, especially Dean, who in his dreams still ended up getting killed night after night. Many times he'd cry out in pain when he relived the searing, cutting knots of the Cat as it repeatedly sliced through his flesh condemning him of his wickedness. He tried desperately to rewrite the horrid scripts that his unfettered mind kept creating, but was unable to.

Though the hour at which the night terrors struck varied, the pattern and routine that followed remained the same night after night.

Dean was always the first to jump out of bed upon hearing Sam's begging pleas and sorrowful cries. He'd move to Sam's side and place his palm face down on his brother's hysterically beating heart and gently try to wake his nightmaring sibling, to end his troubled sleep.

Sam would eventually open his terror filled eyes, which softened upon his recognition that his brother was alive, and then he'd look longingly at Dean as if begging for him to make things alright.

Dean would pat Sam on his chest once he was sure he was awake, get him a drink of water, and after helping his little brother take a sip, suggest he try to get some rest. Sam would often roll over and place his pillow over his head and Dean would sit silently at his bedside so Sam would know he was there.

Bobby would appear soon after in the doorway and give a concerned and sympathetic look over to Dean and the two would wonder if Sam were going back to sleep or simply suffering in silence.

Dean wished he could take out the pain in Sam's mind as easily as he'd removed the stitches from his back. All he could do was watch helplessly as his brother suffered in his unconscious world where he could do nothing to help him, and pray that dawn would come soon and that his brother's waking reality might make it through to his dreams somehow, someday and relieve his burdens.

oooOOOooo

After a particularly difficult dream where Dean had been unable to awaken his brother for several minutes and he and Bobby had begun to grow concerned, Sam suddenly became lucid and made an unusual request. He asked Dean to take him for a drive the next day but didn't specify where.

Dean thought the middle of the night request was a bit unusual, but would have agreed to anything Sam had asked if it would ease his sibling's troubled mind. He promised Sam he would.

After both boys were showered, dressed and ready to go, Dean made good on his promise.

"Well, kiddo, where to?" Dean questioned as he grabbed his keys and jingled them in front of his brother. He'd promised Sam he'd take him anywhere, but he secretly hoped his little brother didn't pick the Mini Mart again. That place still creeped him out.

Sam looked over at Dean with serious eyes. "I want to pay my respects to Ellen and Jo."

Dean looked at Sam cautiously trying to mask his concerns with his little brother's request. He worried that the trip might not be such a good idea and that the weight of their passing might send Sam's emotional progress which was already precarious at night, in the wrong direction.

"I don't know, Sam," Dean replied softly, "I'm not sure now's the best time to be doing that. Why don't you wait until things settle down a bit," he suggested protectively.

"You mean until the nightmares go away," Sam clarified.

Dean glanced away when Sam exposed his concerns, shifted awkwardly, and then turned back to Sam and nodded.

Sam appreciated Dean's concern, but his determined eyes told his older brother that now was the time. He was pretty sure the nightmares were continuing because he needed closure in his heart and he believed he'd find it in going to the cemetery. Jo and Ellen had given their lives and Sam wanted to honor their sacrifice.

"I think it would help with them, Dean," Sam softly added.

Dean studied Sam for a moment and sighed. The kid needed rest. His dark circles under his eyes proved that. Dean wasn't sure how seeing Jo and Ellen's graves could help his little brother heal, but he found he couldn't resist his brother's request. He only hoped he wouldn't end up hating himself later for honoring it.

"You sure about this?" Dean asked again hesitantly.

Sam nodded.

Dean took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "Okay," the older sibling reluctantly agreed.

The drive was quiet. Neither brother felt much like speaking. The two were mostly bathed in sadness. Their lives were healing and going on. Jo and Ellen's weren't, nor would they ever be. The girls had really been there for Sam and Dean at the roadhouse ambush and it wasn't right that the two had ended up dying for it.

Except for a brief stop at a local flower shop, the boys made the trip straight through. They pulled up to the black wrought iron gates of the Oak Lake Cemetery somewhere before noon and stopped by the small office to get information. They were given a map and directions on where the girls had been laid to rest.

Dean parked the Impala to the side of the single driveway that passed to the left of the grave sites.

Both boys got out and looked around.

The scene was breath taking. The property stretched our for miles with lush green hills and large oak trees everywhere marking the history of the cemetery's existence having overseen the laying to rest of thousands over the years. A small pond with a fountain was off to the right, a few birds were splashing, enjoying its refreshment. The grass was perfectly manicured as were the small bushes and planted flowers beside the various headstones.

Sam looked at Dean with searching eyes. He was finding this trip to be more painful than he had even expected and he needed his older brother's strength to help him make it through.

Dean saw Sam struggling with his emotions and he silently cursed himself for agreeing to bring his little brother in the first place. It was too soon after all he'd been through and the last thing Sam needed was more pain and guilt.

"You wanna come back another day," Dean suggested softly.

Sam smiled slightly, appreciative of his brother's understanding, but gently shook his head.

Dean forced out a reassuring smile and indicated the grave sites to be behind Sam up on the hillside.

Dean circled around the Impala to Sam and with flowers in hand, the brothers made their way up to the grave sites.

Sam was the first to spot the two headstones with newly grown grass in front of them and he headed in their direction. Dean followed silently.

Upon arriving, the boys stood for a moment, hands down and crossed in front, flowers hanging down.

Sam's eyes glossed over the engraved granite and his mind flashed to Jess's stone. He was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and turned to look off towards the water.

Dean moved in a little closer trying to offer comfort to his brother without intruding on his seeming need to be alone.

Sam glanced back, noticing his presence. He sniffed and wiped the tear that was slowly sliding down his right cheek.

"They shouldn't be here," Sam whispered almost breathlessly.

Dean was unable to catch his words, but he could tell that whatever his little brother had said, it was heartfelt.

"What?" he asked gently hoping his brother would repeat his heart's whisperings.

"They shouldn't be here," Sam sadly repeated longing for his voice to be heard in the heavens above that God might somehow reach down and undo what had been done or at least make a trade.

He shook his head and sniffed. "I should."

Tears stung in Dean's eyes when his brother's words drifted across the newly growing grass to his straining ears. Dean's soul whispered 'no', but having no voice with which to speak, the voiceless cry merely wafted along the very fibers of his being shattering each and every one as it went along.

Sam turned to Dean with water filled eyes, nodded his head and repeated his belief. "I should."

While Sam spoke with quiet conviction, his eyes pleaded for his big brother to say something to ease his pain, to prove him wrong because the pain of being right was unbearable.

Dean couldn't undo what had happened to Jo and Ellen. God he wished he could, but he couldn't. What was done was done and there was no going back. He couldn't tell Sam it wasn't his fault either, because in Sam's mind it probably was. All he could do was to fall back on the fact that the girls were willing to take a stand with Sam back at the roadhouse for what they believed in knowing full well it might cost them their lives. They believed in Sam and were willing to face death for him.

"They didn't see it that way, Sam," Dean reminded finding it extremely painful to hear Sam talk that way.

"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged with a heavy sigh. "And Jess wouldn't have either," he added having fully embraced the forgiveness of those who had fallen as Dean had suggested weeks earlier. "But that's not what I'm talking about. It should've been me 24 years ago. Don't you think that maybe if I had, you know…died back in the fire, that things would have been better for a lot of people?"

"No, Sam I don't," Dean responded adamantly. " You can't just look at whose lives have been lost in this screwed up war between good and evil to decide if your life is worth living. You need to see all the people who are better off because you're alive," Dean softly added hoping his brother could hold onto the truth he was offering him.

Sam smiled, warmed by his brother's kind words and whispered a disbelieving laugh. He couldn't think of one person whose life had been better off because of him. Mom, Jess, Max, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Jo, Ellen,and even Dad, were all dead. Their lives certainly weren't.

"Name one," Sam replied looking at Dean sadly and daring his brother to make good on his overly generous words.

Dean raised his eyebrows and smiled. "You're lookin at him."

Sam smiled, touched by his brother's expression of love, and shook his head. "Dean, I'm serious," Sam announced.

"So am I, Sam," Dean replied.

Sam looked at his older brother intently as Dean held his belief firm in his eyes. His brother really did believe he was better off because he was alive.

Sam smiled genuinely this time. God he loved his brother, always there, always believing in him, always laying down his life for him, always having his back.

Dean studied Sam's face to see if his little brother was receiving his words and finding peace in them. He truly was better off because of Sam. He couldn't even imagine his world without him. In fact, he wouldn't even have a world to exist in without his little brother. From the day he was born, Dean knew what his purpose was. The fire had only cemented it in his heart. Dean was here because of Sam and ironically, according to Ellen, Sam was here because of Dean. His thoughts wandered back to Ellen's words. "He's here because you are. Keep talking to him until he tells you to shut up."

Dean whispered a laugh.

Sam, finding it odd that Dean would laugh, raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Dean looked at Sam and smiled sheepishly.

"What?" he asked knowing full well why his brother was looking at him that way. "I was thinking of something Ellen said when you were in the coma," Dean explained apologetically.

"Yeah? What was that?"

"Nothing important, really," he replied.

"What?"

Dean paused and cocked his head.

"She basically told me not to give up," Dean summarized.

"On what?"

"On you," Dean clarified softly.

"And that's funny?" Sam asked incredulously.

"It was the way she said it, actually," Dean explained, "And I didn't……give up I mean ...and neither did you. You and me, man, we're still standing," Dean added with a smile appreciating Ellen for the hope she offered when he had been so desperate to believe. " She was right. We made it cuz," Dean paused a bit embarrassed by the chick flick moment he knew was about to make the scene, " cuz we have each other, Sam."

Sam looked Dean in the eyes surprised to hear his brother so openly admit the depth of their relationship and how it had kept them going when each might have otherwise given up or in. He nodded his head in agreement.

"Thanks for being there for me, Dean," Sam softly acknowledged. 'I know I wouldn't be here without you, man."

Dean nodded almost embarrassed that his conversation had prompted his own acknowledgement. "Yeah, well, I had nothing better to do," he muttered.

Sam whispered a laugh.

Dean smiled and moved forward to place his flowers on the top of Ellen's headstone. Sam did the same on Jo's only he paused and whispered a 'Thanks'.

Both stepped back and stood quietly for a moment.

"You ready?" Dean finally asked.

Sam glanced across the cemetery taking a mental image of the place, the sun on the water, the tiny ripples on the surface from the gentle breeze that was caressing his face. He wanted to remember the place as if in doing so, he'd be permanently etching Jo and Ellen's existence into his mind, their sacrifice into his heart. He turned to Dean and nodded, then the two made their way back to the car and headed home.

oooOOOooo

The next weeks flew by quickly. Sam's nightmares about needing forgiveness from loved ones and friends faded after the visit to the cemetery. He found himself feeling more thankful for their love than guilty for their deaths and his unconscious mind eventually released him from his guilty burden and embraced the thankfulness he'd adopted.

Sam's thoughts about life being better if he had died in his crib long ago also faded. His brother's revelation that his surviving the fire when he was six months old was serving a positive purpose….at least for the most important person in his life…Dean…. gave him a peace he had been lacking.

His nightmares of losing Dean and being tortured took a little longer to fade away, but in time they did eventually vanish. Whether it was simply a matter of time passing, putting distance between him and the trauma suffered, the long conversations he, his brother and Bobby had shared that enabled him to work through it, or because he and Dean were returning to their more normal routines, Sam didn't know, but his brother seemed to live through the night and the hunters' cruelties and voices eventually faded into nothingness. Sam began enjoying more restful sleeps which Dean and Bobby enjoyed as well.

As Sam's heart and mind healed over the course of time, so did his body as well. Dean's rigorous routines and Sam's passion to be an equal at his brother's side were greatly rewarded as Sam's strength and stamina increased to the point where he was able to enjoy full range of motion and even jog at his brother's side. The numbness in his left hand lessened some though it still continued, but both he and Dean remained hopeful that in time, the numbness would eventually be gone.

oooOOOooo

One morning, after a trip to the local diner for an early breakfast to celebrate Sam's three mile run the evening before, Dean and Sam returned to the apartment to find Bobby all packed up.

It was a shock in some ways, but not completely unexpected. The boys had wondered how long the hunter would remain now that Sam was well on his way to recovery and no longer in need of the family friend's counsel. None of them had spoken openly about it, fearing that doing so might trigger the event that neither looked forward to. Bobby was family, and though not their father, the closest thing they had to one and the thought of not having the dear family friend around was, well, painful.

The boys both froze in the doorway, their smiles straightened when they saw the duffels piled up at the door.

The hunter rose from the chair he'd been waiting in and turned to face them.

Dean, knowing it was going to be a difficult parting, decided to put on his full snarky attitude, half because it was what he did naturally in uncomfortable or emotional situations and half because he hoped to soften the pain he knew his little brother was about to suffer.

"What's this? No note? No goodbye. I bet you're even taking the _dog_!" Dean complained playfully pretending to be a jilted lover, though if he were to admit it, he felt anything but. Bobby had stayed well beyond what was necessary just to be sure he and Sam were okay and Dean was grateful.

"Naw, I thought I'd leave _you_ behind to keep Sam company while he's getting back up to speed," the old hunter jested with a wink in his eye. He smiled, quite pleased with himself that he'd gotten the best of Dean on that one, licked his finger, raised it into the air as Sam had taught him, and recorded a point on his side of the invisible scoreboard.

Dean shook his head. "Okay, that's 1 to…what are we up to again? A MILLION!" he joked giving Sam a snide look for teaching Bobby how to obnoxiously keep score. " But who's counting?" he added lightheartedly.

"You, apparently," Sam replied as he raised his eyebrows at his over competitive sibling.

"At least I'm on the board," Bobby responded cheerfully trying to keep things light, in the midst of the emotional situation. He'd grown quite fond of the boys and though he knew he needed to get back to the world he'd left behind to help them, he found them to be the world he preferred to be in.

The three stood in silence for a moment, each knowing he would soon be feeling a tremendous sense of loss.

Sam was the one who finally spoke up.

"So where are you going?"Sam's voice gently questioned.

"Think I'll get back to my business. I imagine there's been a wreck or two since I've been gone and I could sure use the pennies," Bobby answered trying to give a good reason to move on. Truth was he didn't have one, but he knew it was time. He glanced back and forth between the two.

Both boys nodded sadly, neither quite able to initiate a goodbye. Dean recognized there was no easy way to go about it except head on. It was the only way he knew.

"Thanks, man," Dean offered sincerely. "For everything. Me and Sammy couldn't have made it without you."

Dean leaned forward, clasped Bobby's hand and leaned into the hunter's shoulder. It was the closest thing to a hug he'd ever initiated with the man.

Bobby smiled, grabbed the physically non-expressive Winchester and hugged him. Bobby slapped him twice on the back and stepped away nodding.

Dean glanced away for a second avoiding eye contact finding the raw emotions difficult to manage.

Bobby turned to Sam and smiled.

"I don't know what to say, Bobby," Sam's voice gently spoke out as he was filled with a mix of sadness and such great appreciation for the dear family friend and adopted father.

"Say I'll see you around," Bobby suggested with a shimmer of wetness in his eyes. "I'm sure as hell not good at goodbyes."

Sam's eyes began to tear.

"You take care of yourself, you hear?" the old hunter counseled Sam trying to sound unemotional, but sounding anything but.

Sam nodded and forced out a smile.

"And don't go believing what any dumb ass hunter or for that matter demon tells you. You're a good kid, Sam, and no one can change that but you."

Sam nodded again, appreciative of the hunter's words.

Bobby reached out for Sam and the youngest Winchester stepped forward into Bobby's embrace. He buried his face in the fatherly man's shoulder and paused.

"You're gonna be okay, son," Bobby whispered as he placed his hand on the back of Sam's head and held him. Bobby tried to hold back his tears, but a few managed to escape.

Dean watched on, finding it painful to see Sam so needy and yet, he couldn't help but endear himself more to Bobby for caring for Sam in such a fatherly way.

Sam eventually straightened and moved back. He, like Dean, glanced away awkwardly for a moment, but he quickly returned his gaze to Bobby.

Bobby looked at both of John's boys, his boys, and smiled. "You boys take care of each other. Make me and your daddy proud."

Sam nodded, still trying to control his emotions.

"Yes Sir," Dean answered for the both of them.

Bobby gathered his things, hesitated and then headed out the door.

Dean followed and stood in the door way and watched him head for the steps. Sam went into the kitchen for a drink.

Bobby, aware that Sam was not within hearing distance, turned to address Dean.

Dean sensed it was something the hunter wanted to say in private and closed the door behind him.

"What is it?" Dean questioned with concern.

"Hunters run in tight circles, Dean," he cautioned. "There may be others who grow suspicious about what happened at the roadhouse, the hospital or the apartment or even wonder about Derek's disappearance."

Dean nodded. He'd already considered the possibility.

Bobby continued.

" Sam, because of who he is, his gifts and all, can easily show up as a blip on any supernatural hunter's radar," he added gently, knowing he needed to speak the truth, but not wanting to upset the oldest Winchester. " You boys will always need to be on guard," he cautioned sadly, wishing it weren't so.

Dean nodded. Bobby was right. Things seemed over, but they could never count on that. Dean would always need to be watchful, careful, and protective. Sam would always need to be looking over his shoulder.

Bobby smiled sadly, hating the burden that John's boys had to carry. He sighed. "But you know, you boys have each other and you will make it to the top of that mountain as long as you stick together."

Dean nodded again and smiled.

Bobby paused having said all he had to say, nodded his head and then held up his hand palm out as in a goodbye and turned to finish his descent down the old wooden stairs.

Moments later the hunter was in his truck and driving away.

Dean stood on the landing and watched him go. The words he'd said were painful to hear, yet Dean recognized them as truth. He'd always need to be on the watch for Sammy and he was willing to do so, do whatever it takes to keep his brother from ever suffering at the hands of hunters again.

Dean returned to the apartment, closed the door behind him, rested his back against it, and turned to his little brother.

Sam approached him with two water bottles. He offered one to his pensive brother.

"He's a good man," Sam acknowledged while trying to figure out if it was his leaving that had sobered Dean or something else.

"Yeah," Dean answered distractedly.

"You okay?" Sam asked sensing his brother was somewhere else.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Dean questioned as he formed a crooked smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

Sam studied his brother for a moment searching his eyes for a truth that lay just below the surface of his casual remark.

Dean not wanting to reveal his concern to his little brother's careful inspection, suddenly jumped into coach mode and clapped his hands.

"Okay, 500 laps, 100 knee bends at the end of each. Let's go!"

"You aren't serious?"Sam questioned startled by his brother's quick turn around.

"Time to continue your training, if you still want to keep me from pinning you," Dean teased.

"Dude, I'm not running in the hallways! We've been out jogging for weeks now!"

Dean smiled knowing full well his brother would be insisting on pavement beneath his feet. "I'll grab my running shoes," Dean added knowing his boots wouldn't cut it.

Sam nodded. He was ready for a good run. He began stretching his leg muscles while Dean went to get ready.

Dean returned good to go and was amused to see Sam stretching so intently.

"Yeah, that's right, you better limber up. I don't want to have to wait for your sorry ass at the end of each street corner."

"Bite me," Sam replied.

Dean laughed. Truth was he was willing to wait for Sam for however long it took until his brother was fighting the supernatural world at his side.

Sam noticed a glint in Dean's eye.

"What?"

"Nothing," Dean replied mysteriously, trying to bait his brother's curiosity.

"Nothing, my ass. What?" Sam pressed on.

"Just thinking," Dean answered smugly dangling the worm a little closer to his intended catch.

"Abooooout? Sam dragged his word out trying to urge a confession from his older brother.

"About how long it will take you to catch up!" Dean hollered as he bolted out the apartment door and took off down the stairs.

"Pffff," Sam laughed, shook his head, and hollered after him as he took off in a dead run, " Yeah, well, you must be getting nervous if you feel like you gotta cheat to win!"

The day was perfect, blue skies, sun shining down on his face, a gentle breeze and an open path. Dean loved the feel of the ground beneath his feet and needed to work out Bobby's words as they lay heavily on his heart. Sam was always going to be a target for black and white thinkers like Jake and Gordon and that scared the shit out of him.

Dean widened his strides as he looked over his shoulder to check for where his little brother was. To his surprise, Sam had made good distance and was coming up behind him. He quickened his pace.

Dean knew he couldn't keep Sam out of the curious eye of a determined hunter, but he hoped that he and Sam would be ready the next time one came calling. Dean would always be on his guard and trust his instincts and he knew now, that if Sam had to, he would defend himself.

Dean looked left and then right and crossed the street heading towards the local community park that was not far from the apartment. He turned to check for Sam and to his surprise, his little brother was crossing the street as well. Dean quickened his pace again and bee lined it to the park. By the time he got there, Sam was running at his side.

Dean smiled. "Not bad," he huffed out.

"You should see me on a good day," Sam quipped with a healthy smile.

It felt so good to the youngest Winchester to be feeling fit again and to be able to keep stride with his older sibling. Sure he had a ways to go, but the worst was over and soon he and his brother would be able to start perusing the newspaper and internet for a job, maybe deal with a spook or two, nothing big, but something to get them going again.

The brothers made it to the familiar path they had exercised on before that circled the oversized manmade pond and slowed to a jog. Their strides synchronized as they moved in tandem along the water's edge. The park was quiet and almost peaceful as the sun shone on the water revealing all the life that lived beneath its surface as well as above.

Dean glanced over at his little brother beside him… strong, healthy and happy. He smiled and turned his focus ahead.

He didn't know how he felt about there being a greater power, but he knew it was a miracle Sam was alive and well. Between the demon and the hunters, he could only imagine what road lay ahead for him and his brother as they made their way to the top of the mountain they were destined to climb, but at least the road they were on had Sam at his side and for that he was truly grateful.

Fin

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Author's Note:

Special thanks to each and every one of you for joining me on this writing endeavor!

For those of you who were able to review, thank you! I've thoroughly enjoyed interacting with you and hope to have the opportunity to interact with you again on my next piece. Special thanks for all the wonderful "chocolate" you sent my way and for helping me reach over 1200 reviews. A number I never thought possible! You guys inspired me and are greatly appreciated!

For those of you who were too shy to reply, I thank you for staying the course... chapter after chapter ...and hope that it was well worth your while too! It was a thrill for me to see so many of you following along …in the numbers. There were over 81,000 hits for Ambush and I so appreciated your interest in my writing.

Thank you! Rachelly


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